The Price Of Immortality
by Beregond5
Summary: Set between Season 2 and COE. The three remaining Torchwood members run a typical investigation. But Jack is soon to discover that a key element to their search has a secret of her own to hide. Torchwood/Highlander crossover. Jack/Ianto pairing.
1. Prologue

The lights in the particularly lavish restaurant that was located in the centre of Cardiff were dim, providing a romantic atmosphere. Soft music played in the air just for two people who were seated in the centre of the great room, enjoying their meal. They didn't seem to notice that the place was empty but for them. They simply talked, empty plates in front of them, never taking their eyes off the other and keeping their hands linked.

The middle-aged waitress stood discreetly a little further away, watching the couple just in case they needed something. As time went by, however, she couldn't help but study them. For the man didn't seem less than in his early fifties, with silver hair that was at the beginnings of changing to white and grey eyes that reflected brightness of intelligence. His body, which was quite well-preserved for his age, admittedly, leaned close to the woman so he could place a loving kiss on her cheek, and the waitress couldn't help but shift her attention. The woman was much younger than the man, with dark hair that was tied in an aristocratic bun, accentuating her oval face, and an elegant black dress that certainly flattered her slender figure.

"Would you believe it?" the waitress said as one of her colleagues passed by. "He's old enough to be her father!"

The waiter looked at the couple and he shook his head. "It's not our business what the clients do in their life, Meggie."

"But really, how is it possible that she actually marriedhim?" Meggie insisted; she had noticed the wedding bands on their hands. "Of course, they're probably not even married to each other and that's…"

"Quite presumptuous of you," the waiter concluded for her. "Your only excuse is that you're new here so you're not familiar with the Adler day."

Meggie blinked in confusion, and the waiter let out a long suffering sigh.

"That's Robert Adler," he said, pointing at the man. "You've probably seen his name in the newspaper a couple of times."

Meggie felt her eyes widening. "Hang on… _The _Robert Adler? The barrister?" Indeed, she had heard of him. He wasn't exactly famous, but he was involved in several cases that had caught the media's attention.

"None other. And now that we got out that out of the way, here's the deal with the Adler day," the waiter said. "Every year, on the same day, he puts the whole restaurant under reservation just for himself and his wife, so that they can celebrate their anniversary."

"You make it sound as if they've been doing it for years," Meggie said, frowning slightly.

"They have," the waiter said. "This is their 25th anniversary."

"You're bloody kidding me!" Meggie exclaimed.

"Indeed not."

"But she barely looks a day more than thirty… at the most!"

"And she's actually in her _late_ thirties," the waiter said. "Looks can certainly be deceiving, can't they?"

Meggie didn't say anything. She just remained looking at them, her disapproval changing into wonder.

* * *

"We had quite the audience tonight," Aline said, her arm wrapped around her husband's in a lady-like manner. She had noticed the waitress staring at them.

Her husband must have noticed the same thing, for he chuckled. "Are you worried she was making eyes at me?"

Aline raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. Should I be?"

"Very," Robert replied with a grin. "It means I've still got it."

"That you do," Aline replied with a giggle. "But you'd better not misbehave, mister. I found you first."

"Oh, I do want my head on my shoulders, dear," Robert joked.

"That makes two of us," Aline replied, leaning close to her husband to cup his face. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Robert replied, placing a tender kiss on her lips. "I'll go bring the car up front."

Aline smiled. "Okay."

Robert just grinned and stepped back, bowing as if he was a knight. "My lady."

She giggled once again and then watched him go, bringing her long raincoat closer to herself. It felt quite nippy tonight.

* * *

Robert walked to the parking lot, his step quite brisk. It didn't take him long to find the car, a black Volvo, located a little further away from the other cars. Whistling a bit to himself, he was just about to unlock it when he felt motion behind him. All sense of cheeriness abandoned him, and he put his hand slowly on the inside of his coat. He had dealt with muggers before; this one wasn't going to catch him by surprise either; he span around, gun in hand.

The last thing he registered was a set of sharp teeth embedding themselves on his neck.

* * *

Aline paced the pavement slowly, then took out her left hand from her pocket to check the time. It had been five minutes since Robert had gone for the car, and she had decided that that wasn't good. They hadn't parked all that far, so there was no reason for that kind of delay.

Frowning, she headed for the parking lot, hoping for the best and yet expecting the worst. With eyes scanning her surroundings at all times, it didn't take her long to find the car… and her husband, being mauled by a crouching form.

"Robert!" she shouted, but she never had the chance to do anything else. The familiar pain of a bullet pierced through her chest, and she knew nothing more.


	2. A Typical Investigation

After Owen and Tosh's deaths, the three remaining members of Torchwood Three tried to make do on their own. It wasn't easy dealing with the loss of two colleagues and friends, but nevertheless they managed it. Now, two months later, the loss was still too near, but it didn't stop them from doing their job. When Jack heard over the police frequency that a mauled body was found in the centre of Cardiff _and _a dead creature of unknown nature next to it, all three understood that this was a case for Torchwood. Jack informed the police that they should leave everything untouched, make sure no passers-by contaminated the scene either, and wait for their arrival.

Twenty minutes later, the three Torchwood members stepped out of the SUV and crossed the yellow police line without much problem. Moving with experienced harmony, Gwen talked to the police officer who was in charge, while Jack and Ianto walked over to the dead bodies. They sat on their heels and directed their torches on them, wishing to have a better look; it was still quite dark.

"That's a lot of blood," Jack commented.

'Yes, that's to be expected after a Weevil confrontation," Ianto replied, blue-grey eyes scanning the two bodies.

"You've still got to give him credit, though. He tried to fight back," Jack said, pointing at the gun that was still clutched in the dead man's hand.

Ianto cocked his head. "So, at first glance, one can deduce that he fired his gun when the Weevil bit him, but it was too late and they both died of their wounds."

Jack raised an eyebrow at the words 'first glance'.

"You spotted it too, then."

Ianto pointed at the bullet wound on the Weevil's body. "The exit wound and the lack of scorch-marks indicate that the Weevil was shot from a distance… and from the back. That means somebody else must have shot it."

Jack nodded in evident approval. "Nicely done. Although I was going to say that the Weevil has some pretty interesting marks here." He pointed at the thick neck. "See the red line there?"

Ianto did. "It's chaffed," he commented and then looked back at Jack. "Collar?"

"Yup," Jack answered. "Now either the Weevils have a very spicy sex life, or…"

"Someone was controlling this one."

"Bingo."

Just then, the familiar sound of footsteps reached their ears, and they looked up to see Gwen coming up to them.

"Okay, according to the police officer, the victim was Robert Adler, aged 54, married, and a barrister by profession. An anonymous caller informed 999 about his location at approximately half past eight."

"Anything else we should know about?" Jack asked.

"Well, he was working on a murder case which could be related to the Russian Mafia," Gwen said, checking her notes. "So the officer thinks that the Weevil was a masked hitman who was hired for the purpose of killing him."

"Oh, because they probably ran out of horses' heads," Ianto deadpanned as he continued examining the two dead bodies. His hand dug into the man's pocket and took out a small piece of paper. "I have something."

Jack extended his hand in a gesture to Ianto to hand it over, and the young man complied. The former Time-agent unravelled the paper, only to let out a small whistle.

"Classy. Mr. Adler here knew how to pick his spots."

"Meaning?" Gwen asked.

"This is a receipt from the 'La Nuit', a nice restaurant which mostly serves clients of the amorous nature."

"Why am I not surprised that you know of it?" Ianto asked. Just because he still examined the bodies, it didn't mean he was deaf.

"Maybe you want us to go there next time?" Jack asked in an innocent tone. "They have this amazing desert with strawberries and…"

"Jack," Gwen said, bringing the immortal man back into focus. "Don't you think we should find out who was with Mr. Adler last time before arranging dates?"

"I can still kill two birds in one stone," Jack grinned. "Go to the restaurant, ask your questions and then reserve a table for two for next week."

"And I suppose I should give the name 'Harkness', so they'll reserve the usual table," Gwen said, half- teasing, half- serious.

"That would be preferable." Jack wasn't kidding.

Gwen shook her head with a sigh, obviously thinking that the former Time-agent was simply impossible at times.

"Fine. Have fun, you two. I'll meet you at the Hub once I'm done questioning the people in the restaurant."

"Alright, thanks," Jack said with a smile, watching Gwen go. As soon as she had vanished amid the crowd, Jack returned his gaze to Ianto, who had walked a couple of feet away from the bodies and stared at something on the pavement.

"What have you got?" Jack asked, walking up to the younger man.

"More blood," Ianto answered, pointing at a rather large stain.

Jack frowned, and looked back at Adler's body. Was it possible that it could be his? He was too far away though…

"Take samples and sent them over to Martha," he said. "It might help us pinpoint if that third party got hit, too."

"Right," Ianto said, putting on latex gloves. "What about you?"

Jack turned on his heel, walking away. "I have to talk to the widow."

And with that, Jack walked over to the police officer to ask about the victim's address.

* * *

Finding Adler's house wasn't difficult. The man lived in quite the big house just outside of Cardiff, away from the main road and more or less further away from the other houses in the particular area. If anything, Robert Adler had enjoyed his privacy while he was alive.

Jack parked the SUV outside the house and stepped out, putting his hands in the pockets of his military coat. As he approached the entrance with a calm, confident step, he looked up towards the windows to see whether…

Ah… though the world was still bathed in the semi-darkness of pre-dawn, Jack caught sight of a curtain being tugged. It was clear someone was inside and even moved to the window to have a look outside, probably even wondering about the newcomer's arrival… and suspecting that it can't be good.

Jack climbed up the small steps to the entrance, took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. A few moments later, the door opened, revealing a young woman with dark brown hair tied back in a small ponytail, and hazel-green eyes. She was wearing a pair of black jeans and a red sleeveless top, even though the sun had just cropped up from the trees, bathing everything with its light. Jack could see the young woman's comely features and the Mediterranean shapely form, and he couldn't help but feast his eyes on them momentarily. That is, until a disconcerting thought crossed his mind that… she wasn't exactly unfamiliar to him.

"Can I help you?" she asked, snapping the former Time-agent out of his musings.

Well, whoever she was, she didn't seem to know him.

"Actually, yes. I'm Captain Jack Harkness," Jack said. "Can I speak to Mrs Adler?"

"I'm afraid my mother's away on a business trip," the young woman replied warily. "What's this about?"

Jack held up his special ID. "Torchood. And I have some bad news that I'm sorry to say you'll be the first to hear."

She frowned, regarding him closely, and then beckoned him inside. "I have some coffee getting ready," she said. "Something tells me we'll both need it."

_Good instincts, _Jack thought, and he walked in.

* * *

Jack had to admit that, for a woman of her age, Sophie took the death of her stepfather pretty well. She didn't burst into tears and she didn't even get stunned in shocked confusion. She simply nodded, went to the kitchen for a few minutes, and then she returned with two mugs of coffee. Even so, Jack should see in her eyes the emotional struggle that raged within her soul, and he noticed the slight tremor in her motions as she handed his coffee.

"Thank you," Jack said.

She smiled weakly at him, her eyes lingering on his person for a few moments before she turned on her heel. Holding her mug with both hands, she sat on the armchair across from the former Time-agent and had a sip of the liquid.

"Do you know the identity of the… mugger?"

Jack shook his head. "He was young, possibly a runaway kid who needed some money and fast," he replied, giving further credibility to the story he had told Sophie. After all, it would be pretty awkward to tell her that a man, her stepfather for that matter, was half-eaten by an alien monster that came through a rift in time and space.

Sophie nodded slowly, taking another sip from her mug. "I suppose the police might be able to make a positive ID in their criminal records."

"Probably," Jack said, sipping some coffee as well. Sophie seemed well-informed about the procedure. Jack supposed it had something to do with having a barrister for a stepfather.

"So… what brings you here, Mr. Harkness?" she asked regarding him closely. "Torchwood is a special force that hardly handles bringing news to unfortunate mothers and daughters."

Jack raised an eyebrow. Scratch that, she was _very_ well-informed.

"I was there," he answered truthfully. "I figured someone should tell the news, and it might as well be me."

She frowned. "I see. That's very kind of you."

Jack winced inwardly as he realised that the girl was becoming sceptical about matters. No one took up such a task lightly for someone unknown.

Nothing for it then. He'd just have to be a bit more open about things.

"Miss Adler, there's another matter that is a concern to Torchwood."

Sophie raised an eyebrow in quite the lady-like manner. "What is it?"

"Your stepfather had a receipt from the 'La Nuit' in his pocket," Jack explained. "After what you've just told me, I don't think he was there with your mother."

"Are you suggesting that he was cheating on her?" The tone was quite angry and indignant.

"All I'm saying is that your father wasn't alone that night. If I can find out who it is, I might be able to find some answers as to the circumstances of your father's death."

"I thought you said he was mugged," she pointed out. "Is there more to it then?"

Not only well-informed, persistent as well. "We need to check all options before concluding to any definite theory. That's why we're trying to find clues anywhere we can," he said. "Are you sure you can't think of anyone meeting your father in that restaurant?"

"Quite sure," Sophie answered. "The only one that my stepfather ever accompanied there was Mother."

Jack considered matters for a few moments, only to finally nod his understanding. "Alright. Thank you, Miss Adler."

"You're welcome," Sophie said. "Will that be all then?"

"For now," Jack said, standing up. "I'll contact you if I need anything else."

"Of course," Sophie said, putting the mug down on the coffee table and standing up. "Let me show you to the door."

She beckoned him to follow her, and Jack did just that. Yes, his job here was certainly done, but… he couldn't help feeling that something didn't add up, even more so with the young girl who was walking next to him. Why did he have this nagging feeling as if he had seen her somewhere before? He could practically almost picture that face in another place and another time.

Hold on… another time?

"Miss Adler… There aren't all that many people familiar about Torchwood. How did you come to know of it?"

She shrugged. "My grandmother had a sister who worked there. Why?"

Jack, however, grinned. "Just curious," he said innocently. "Goodbye." And with that, Jack walked out and headed for the SUV, his hands back in the pockets of his military coat once more.

He didn't notice Sophie watching him go, a frown settled on her features.

* * *

The alarms at the Hub went off, making Ianto look up from the file he was currently reading. He wasn't all that surprised to see Jack coming in, a look meaning business in his eyes as he removed his coat.

"Is Gwen back from her inquiries at the restaurant?" the former Time-agent asked.

"Not yet," Ianto replied, taking the coat in order to hang it properly on the coat-rack. "But I've got something that you might want to see."

"Tell me," Jack said.

"I've sent our findings to Martha – who sends her regards, by the way – and she's e-mailed me back an answer after examining them."

"That was quick," Jack commented, impressed.

"She said she owed us," Ianto replied with a brief smile and he leaned just so both men could have a good look at the file. "We were right; there _was _someone else at the scene, and it looks like they shot the Weevil in the back. Even if the trajectory hadn't been all wrong, the bullet in the Weevil's body didn't match with the gun the victim had in his hands. And, on top of things, the blood on the pavement didn't match with either Adler's or the Weevil's."

"So our third member is injured," Jack said thoughtfully. "Get in contact with all hospitals to see if there's a new entry."

"I already have," Ianto said. "There have been no reported injuries, either gun-shot inflicted or otherwise."

"Then our only chance is to find the anonymous 999 caller," Jack said.

Ianto nodded. "I'll download the recording."

"Do that." Jack patted Ianto on the back and he got ready to head to his office. The familiar wail of the alarms stopped him on his tracks, however, and he turned around.

"Welcome back," he said as Gwen came up to him. "Any luck?"

"Well, it turned out that Robert Adler _was _at the 'La Nuit' just yesterday," she said. "And, as you probably already suspect, he wasn't alone. He was with his wife, celebrating their anniversary."

Jack stared at Gwen dubiously. "You sure about that?"

Gwen blinked. "Well, yeah. The headwaiter knows them; they dine at the 'La Nuit every year. Why?"

"Because I just came from the Adler's residence, and their daughter assured me that the mother was away on a business trip."

"That can't be right," Gwen said, frowning. "The Adlers don't have a daughter."

Jack's eyes widened at that. "Excuse me?"

"The police officer was positive. Robert Adler is only survived by his wife."

"Then who was at…?"

"Jack?" Ianto said at that moment, cutting into the conversation. "I've downloaded the recording. You'd better hear this."

Jack and Gwen walked up to Ianto's desk, and the young man pressed the enter button to play the audio file.

"_999. What's the emergency?_"

"_Please… There are two bodies in an alley. They… They don't appear to be moving…_"

Jack turned on his heel at once, grabbing his coat from the coat-rack.

"Jack?" Gwen said, not really understanding the meaning of it.

"That was the 'daughter'!" Jack said, hurrying to the exit. "Come on!"

Ianto and Gwen exchanged a glance, then quickly followed Jack to the SUV. The moment that they had settled inside, the former Time-agent gunned the engine at full throttle and drove to the Adler residence once more. He came to a halt as soon as they arrived at the house, and all three of them jumped out, gun in hand. Jack rushed to the threshold and kicked the door open, ready to face the woman who had lied straight to his face.

He didn't have the chance. The house had long been deserted, and she was nowhere to be seen.

TBC...


	3. A Time Long Forgotten

Even though the Adler residence was clearly abandoned, Jack was still determined to find any clues considering the identity and possibly the whereabouts of the girl who had introduced herself as Sophie Adler. So, he had sent Gwen upstairs, while he searched the main floor and Ianto did his own research via the PDA. The search seemed promising at first, for the former Time-Agent had quickly discovered the remains of burnt clothes and, more importantly, he could clearly see the blood still clinging on the parts of clothing that the fire didn't touch. Jack was quite positive that they would be able to analyse the blood back at the Hub. But when he came up with nothing else, he had no choice but to sit on the couch next to Ianto.

"What have you got?" he asked.

"Nothing as of yet," Ianto said, his eyes never leaving the PDA. "I couldn't find anything about a Sophie Adler."

"What about Aline Adler?"

"All I got was just the wedding announcement to Robert Adler."

"Jack?"

Jack looked up. Gwen was climbing down the stairs, seeming quite troubled as she beckoned him to come upstairs. Jack stood up and followed with Ianto close to his heels.

"In here," she said, entering the bathroom.

Jack walked in as well, and his eyes widened at the sight. Strands of fine brown hair were left on the sink, the scissors right next to them.

"Okay, is it me, or are things just getting weirder?" he commented. It was obvious that the girl, 'Sophie', cut her hair; Jack could tell that her hair and the hair on the sink were the same. Was it a means not to be recognised, then? But why?

"Jack."

Jack turned around, just in time to see Ianto pick up what looked like a tool kit. When the younger man opened it, however, the former Time-agent was intrigued to see that it was, in fact, a professional make-up kit, and inside it there was the picture of Sophie Adler. Or rather, an older version of her.

"Aline Adler," he said, finally understanding.

Gwen blinked. "Are you saying that Aline Adler and Sophie Adler are the same person?"

"If that's true, it means she was the one who dined with Robert Adler, and the one who made the 999 call," Ianto said.

"And then she came here, burned her clothes, cut her hair, and was off again," Jack said.

"But I don't understand," Gwen said. "Why this charade?"

"No idea," Jack admitted thoughtfully. He held up the plastic containing the remains of the burnt clothes. "We'll see what answers these will give us."

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

* * *

Aline continued on her way, keeping her step calm, straightening her beret so that it didn't slip from her head. She was fully alert, waiting for the moment either the police or Torchwood appeared. It was true that the short hair, her almost non-existent makeup and her sport clothes made her look a lot different from the image she had created as Mrs Adler; the almost forty-years-old lady was gone. Now she just seemed like a college student having a walk around the city and carrying a rucksack on her shoulder.

Disappearing off the face of the Earth wasn't difficult; she had done it almost all her long life. But time passed and the security policies tightened, preventing frauds and forgery. That meant she had to be extra careful. She had more than enough money in her rucksack to circulate without having to use ATMs or credit cards; it was enough to buy an aeroplane ticket, in fact. Even her beret served as a way to foil the CCTV cameras, or rather, the people that would use the CCTV clips to try and locate her. It was just a matter of renting a car, heading to London, and then taking off from Heathrow before anyone could stop her.

The problem was that she didn't want to leave. Not before she found out who was behind her husband's murder. Yes, she was sure that that Weevil didn't just attack randomly. Someone had forced it to attack and, when she appeared in the scene, they shot her to make sure she didn't interfere. Now it was just a matter of figuring out who was behind the attack and why; and, hopefully, she would be able to find out before having to deal with more surprises like Jack. Dealing with him once was enough.

* * *

_Her shoes clicked sharply on the pavement as she headed towards Cardiff Bay, walking as fast as her pencil skirt permitted her to. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had to admit to herself that it was interesting to observe the change in fashion over the centuries, denoting the position of a woman. In Sparta, she was a person with political power and trained to be strong; there were no qualms about showing her bare arms or legs, the way it was in the Victorian times. _

_Still, fighting was a different matter entirely. Warrior women, those who didn't hide their identities, that is, were a rare sight. She, however, preferred not to draw that kind of attention to herself. So, throughout the centuries, she disguised herself as a man, which wasn't only uncomfortable for her breasts, admittedly, but very stressful as well. Being always on the lookout and constantly perfecting male mannerisms in case someone became suspicious wasn't easy. And, of course, she didn't want to remember the time that she had actually been accused of impregnating another woman, back in the Byzantium. If she hadn't been executed, it would have probably been somewhat amusing._

_In other words, she couldn't wait till women would be considered equal to men, just so she wouldn't have to hide herself anymore. And now, finally, it looked like the mortals were finally making their first steps in the right direction, which was quite encouraging. Of course, now she had to deal with the wolf-whistles and being referred to as 'doll', but… can't win them all, she supposed._

_Still, she had to admit that Torchwood didn't seem to make such discrimination policies. That was one of the reasons that she opened the door of a quaint little office which, according to her sources, belonged to the particular organization._

_What she didn't expect was to see the office empty._

"_Hello?" she said, looking warily in all directions._

_There was silence for many long moments._

"_Hello?" she insisted, hand reaching for the sword attached on the inside of her raincoat._

"_Oh, excuse me!" a young girl said, stepping out of the restroom and putting her crayon back in her bag. "How can I help you?"_

"_Yes, well, I believe you're interested in hiring people here. Do I present my Curriculum Vitae to you?"_

"_Well, that does depend," the secretary said, "on what job are you applying for."_

"_The position in… research."_

"_I see," the woman said with a small smile. "In that case, you have to speak to Mr. Ford."_

"_Is he available?"_

"_Just a moment," the secretary replied and she pressed a button on the intracom system. "Mr. Ford? There's a…" Her grey eyes made a silent question._

"_Hapgood. Alice Hapgood."_

_The secretary nodded. "A Miss Hapgood here for the job application."_

"_Send her in, Miss Myles."_

"_Of course," With that, Miss Myles ended the transmission and smiled at 'Alice'. "You can go in." In the next moment, he pressed a button and a door on the opposite wall opened. "Go straight ahead, then cross the hall. You can't miss it."_

_Alice nodded her understanding. "Thank you, Miss Myles."_

"_Please, call me Sarah," Miss Myles said. "Good luck with the interview."_

"_Thank you," Alice said again, and she stepped into the corridor that as behind the secret door. She walked cautiously, not caring much for the narrow space she was in; it meant no room to manoeuvre in case she had to fight. Still, she kept a hand inside her raincoat, close to her sword, ready to defend herself. Finally, after walking downwards after what felt like an hour, she reached the hall that Miss Myles had already told her about. There were about six people inside, each of them sitting at their desk and typing, barely acknowledging the other's presence. Alice made a motion to speak to the person close to her, and ask the whereabouts of Mr. Ford, but she then caught sight of a small room, separate from the hall. Deciding to try her luck, she walked straight to it and knocked on the door._

"_Come in."_

_Alice complied and stepped inside._

_A man in his late forties with black hair and grey eyes looked up from the file he was reading._

"_Ah, you must be Miss Hapgood," he said with a smile and he stood up to shake Alice's hand. "I'm Edward Ford, the director of this petite establishment."_

"_Alice Hapgood," the woman said, returning the handshake, "and I must say that your establishment is anything but 'petite'."_

"_It is if you compare it with our main building in London," Mr. Ford pointed out with a mild tease. "Please, have a seat. Would you like anything to drink?"_

_Alice thought about it for a few moments. "Some tea would be nice, thank you."_

"_Not at all," Ford said, reaching for the teapot and putting some of the warm liquid in two porcelain cups. "So, Miss Hapgood…" he continued on, handing one of the cups to the woman. "Miss Myles said you're here for the job application?"_

"_Indeed, yes," Alice replied._

"_May I ask how did you know that there was an open position?" Mr. Ford asked, knitting his hands together and regarding Alice in a friendly, albeit curious look._

"_Actually, you could say I was at the right place at the right time," Alice replied. "A gentleman was conversing with a waiter, asking him if he knew anyone who might be interested in working for the office he was in. I took the liberty of cutting into the conversation, asked for some information, and he gave me the address."_

"_I see," Mr. Ford said thoughtfully. "Do you know what this establishment is about?"_

"_Researching for anything that is beyond the realm of science and trying to put it in use for the benefit of mankind."_

_Mr. Ford raised an eyebrow. "I see you've done your homework."_

"_Actually, I've been familiar with the Torchwood Agency for quite some time," Alice said. "My father had the opportunity to work closely with agents of Torchwood while stationed in Hong Kong before the War."_

"_Mr. Ford seemed quite intrigued at that. "Oh yes? Was your father part of the British Government?"_

"_A diplomat, actually," Alice replied, weaving her story. "There had been a political incident there and my father represented the British interests in cooperation with Torchwood."_

"_I see," Mr. Ford said. "Did you accompany your father in his journeys, Miss Hapgood?"_

"_Practically all my life," she replied, and she meant it. However, the man that she actually talked about and referred to as her father was, in fact, her mentor._

_Mr. Ford smiled slightly. "I suppose that explains the strange accent. It almost sounds like you come from a lot of different places."_

"_You are actually the first one to notice," Alice said, smiling as well._

"_Right. May I have a look at your credentials, please?"_

"_Of course," Alice handed the man her portfolio and then she rested her back on the chair, waiting for him to finish reading the file._

"_Interesting," Mr. Ford said. "How come a young lady such as yourself chose archaeology as a subject of her studies?"_

"_It's a field of expertise that I feel quite at home with," Alice said, keeping the inside joke to herself._

_Mr. Ford continued reading. "And it's not the only one," he said. "That's quite the impressive number of languages you speak, Miss Hapgood."_

"_Thank you, but I have to admit that I'm rather rusty in my Ancient Greek and Latin."_

_Mr. Ford didn't speak for some minutes, still looking at the file in thought. Finally, he set it down gently, pursing his lips._

"_Miss Hapgood. This is quite an impressive portfolio," he said. "You would have certainly excelled in Archaeological studies. So it makes me wonder why you wish to work here."_

"_From what I gather so far, your research focuses mainly on discoveries of the present," Alice replied. "However, I always believed that one can find a lot more answers in the past."_

"_So you're suggesting we should do some digging up of our own?" the man asked, half-teasing, half-serious._

"_I believe it would benefit the Agency," Alice said. "There are a lot of items that even Archaeology labels as 'useless debris'. However, if we analysed it under a different light, one that touches the potential of extra-terrestrial activity, there's a chance we might get a better understanding of history itself."_

"_Like that Stonehedge was actually built by extra-terrestrials?" Mr. Ford asked._

"_It is worth looking into, isn't it?" Alice asked with a smile._

"_Admittedly, it is an interesting notion," Mr. Ford answered. "When do you think you can start working?"_

"_Even now if you like," Alice replied._

"_Now it is, then," Mr. Ford said. "There are a couple of objects that will be worth your researching time. And, if you wish to have a look at any files, you can ask for…"_

_Mr. Ford never finished his sentence, for it was then that the door opened and a man stepped inside with a grin on his face._

"_There. My report, just as you asked," he said, tossing a file at Mr. Ford's desk._

"_Amazing. It usually takes you a week longer," Mr. Ford deadpanned, picking up the file to place it aside._

"_I thought it would make you happy," the man replied with a wink, and he then turned to Alice, his grin actually broadening. "I see you found your way."_

"_You gave me clear directions," Alice replied._

_Mr. Ford raised an eyebrow. "I presume _you're_ the gentleman who offered this young lady the job here?" _

"_Guilty as charged," Jack said cheerily. "It would be a pity for such a pretty face to be without a job."_

"_Of course," Mr. Ford said with a knowing look in his eyes. "Well, Miss Hapgood, here's the man you will be working with quite a lot. Meet Captain Jack Harkness."_

_Alice smiled and stretched her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you again and officially make your acquaintance, Mr. Harkness."_

"_Oh, believe me, Miss Hapgood," Jack answered, taking the woman's hand to complete the handshake, "The pleasure is all mine."_

* * *

Aline sighed and watched the children in the park. She was sitting in a bench, barely touching the burger and chips that she had bought for lunch. Nothing seemed to go down as she was too lost in thought and grief; she missed her husband too much. And the worst part was that she wouldn't be able to attend his funeral, or at least visit his grave from time to time.

A soft whine made him turn around. A thin brown dog was regarding her with begging eyes, obviously smelling the delicacies that the human had in her lap.

Aline frowned, checking the dog for a collar or anything that showed that the dog was in the park with his owner, but there was nothing. The dog was clearly a stray.

"You're a wanderer too, then," Aline murmured, looking at the friendly pooch with a soft smile.

Her only answer was another whine, and the dog actually rested his head against her leg.

Aline's smile broadened, and she rubbed his ears before handing him the burger.

"Now go on, shoo," she said playfully.

The dog didn't have to be told twice. Holding the burger in his mouth as if it was a prize, he sprinted off with the intention of eating it somewhere private. Aline couldn't help but smile at the sight. Yes, the relationship between dogs and humans must have certainly started a bit like that. It was a pity that this one didn't have an owner, but there was nothing for it. Not all dogs could be lucky in that sense.

It was then that the thought occurred to her. She swiftly opened her rucksack and dug into the contents until she found what she had been looking for: the collar that the Weevil had been wearing when it attacked Robert. It seemed like an ordinary collar, really. But now that Aline had the opportunity to examine it better, she was intrigued to see that it was, in fact, a shock collar. Even better, it had a dial set up, and it was relatively new. With any luck, she'd be able to locate the pet-store that had sold it and, consequently, the buyer.

With that thought in mind, she stood up and headed towards an Internet shop. She had some googling to do.

TBC...


	4. A Step Closer To The Truth

"Yes. A woman with short dark hair and hazel-green eyes, about 5.5'', quite slim and athletic-looking. She was wearing black trousers and a red top. She should be injured too, even if it won't be noticeable at first sight," Gwen said, pacing up and down the Hub and talking on the phone. "No, I don't know what her name is, Andy; she's just a runaway that we need to question." She paused, listening to Andy. "Okay, thanks. Call me if you find her." With that, she hung up and turned her gaze to Jack.

"Well?" he asked.

"He said that they will keep an eye out for her."

Jack nodded. Ever since the team returned to the Hub, they had set themselves to work in order to find out anything considering the woman by the name of Aline Adler. Jack had contacted Martha and sent her the blood sample he had recovered from the burnt clothes. Though Martha had assured the former Time-agent that she would send him the test results and her deductions in less than an hour, Jack hadn't felt like remaining idle. So, he kept himself busy in any way he could, supervising Ianto and Gwen.

"Ianto, tell me what you've got," he said, walking up to the younger man's workstation.

"I had another look at the wedding announcement," Ianto replied. "Apparently, her last name was Jones."

"Now that's a rare name," Jack said dryly.

"I know. So, I dug a little further," Ianto said. "Apparently, she declared that her date of birth was on January 13th, 1966, and her father's name was Adam. So, I searched through any birth certificates that coincide with that data."

"And?" Jack asked, hopefully.

"And it appears Aline Jones is another alias," Ianto said. "There are no women by that name who were born on the particular date."

Jack pursed his lips. More lies then. Where did this web end?

"Okay, that's simply not possible," Gwen said. "She couldn't have come out of nowhere!"

"If she is an alien stranded here, she'd better not try and seduce either of you to get into Torchwood," Jack stated in a matter-of-fact tone. His eyes widened in the next moment, however, for it was then that the thought crossed his mind. Aline had said that her grandmother worked in Torchwood. That, and the nagging feeling that he had seen Aline's face somewhere before, was enough to make Jack realise that they had found their next clue.

"Ianto… where do you keep the files of the old Torchwood agents?" he asked.

"In the computer," Ianto said. "They've been there for the last two years."

"Good," Jack said. He instantly sat at the desk, typing on the computer swiftly.

"Jack, what are you trying to find?" Gwen asked.

"I'll tell you when I find it," Jack replied, and he left it at that as he focused on the screen.

Just then, the Hub's communication frequencies opened with a loud whistle.

"Jack, it's Martha."

"The voice of a nightingale," Jack replied, still typing. "So what's the verdict, doc?"

"Well, you were right, it is blood," Martha said. "But that's not why I called you."

The former Time-Agent stopped typing. "Is something wrong?"

"Well, I did the DNA profiling, and the blood matches with the third, unknown human who was at the scene of the crime."

"No surprise there," Jack commented.

"There's more to it," Martha said. "I didn't see it before because I was looking at the DNA sequences rather than anything else, but, Jack… this is amazing."

"What is it?"

"Blood contains amino-acids that create the proteins needed to perform all the chemical reactions in an organic body. Those chemical reactions are responsible for an organism's metabolism, which, in turn, determines the longevity of a body. The higher the metabolic rate, the longer a body lives."

"And what you found is?" Jack asked.

"Jack, the basal metabolic rate in these two blood samples is the highest I've ever seen in my life. In fact, it's higher than any other living creature on Earth by far."

Jack frowned. "I thought you said that it was human blood."

"Yes, that's the amazing part," Martha said. "If my readings are correct, this human will be able to live hundreds of years without aging. They're a moving, breathing fountain of youth!"

Jack felt his eyes widening. Was that even possible? If that were true, then that meant…

"Martha, I'll get back to you," he said, turning off the Bluetooth and typing on the keyboard, until he found what he had been looking for; a file dating from the late 1940s… and the face of one Alice Hapgood, looking back at him from the photograph. A face identical to Aline Adler's.

"Oh, my god, Jack…" Gwen breathed out.

Jack couldn't have agreed more to that.

* * *

Aline walked out of the Internet shop, checking the printed list with the names of about twenty pet shops, including their addresses. There were more pet shops across Cardiff, of course, but she had narrowed down her search to the ones who sold shock-collars with dial up settings and, thankfully, that simplified matters. More importantly, one of the pet shops was quite nearby, so she could start her search from there and then continue on.

As she walked down the street, however, the unsettling feeling of a pair of eyes locked on her made the hair on the back of her neck rise. Granted, it was more of a gut feeling rather than anything else, but, in the 3,000 years of her existence, she had learned to trust her instincts. If she _were _being followed, she would teach her stalker how bad an idea that was.

Keeping her eyes open, she spotted a large window shop across the street. Checking to her right and then her left, she walked straight towards it with eyes scrutinising her reflection… and of the man who was walking behind her. She clenched her fist and walked on, acting as if nothing was wrong, and then she stood in front of the window. Though she gave the impression that she was looking at a dress, she simply waited for the man to get close enough to surprise him.

She didn't have to wait for long.

"Excuse me, do you have the time?"

"The time? Yes, of course," the man said, looking at his wristwatch. "It's quarter part three."

_Relaxed posture, unstrained smile, calm voice… No, just a passer-by, _she decided and then smiled. "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome." And the man continued on his way.

Aline supposed that he was fortunate; she could have ended up hurting an innocent person. Sighing, she resumed looking at the window in an absentminded manner. Maybe she _was _being paranoid.

All such thoughts vanished into thin air the moment that her eyes caught sight of another reflection across the street; that of another man, very thin, probably in his early twenties and wearing filthy, ragged clothes. Aline decided that he had the looks of a typical drug-addict who lived in the streets, and yet he was now staring at her. And it was no idle look that someone casts upon seeing something of interest, no. He had practically fixed his eyes on her, watching her every move.

_Right_. Taking a deep breath, she started walking away, keeping her gait casual and unburdened. As soon as she saw a small narrow alley to her left, she tossed her rucksack behind the garbage cans and then climbed the water-pipes as quickly as possible. The metal creaked slightly under her weight, making her wince; but they held her for now. All she had to do was just wait.

The man appeared soon afterwards, panting slightly. It was obvious that he had run after her the moment that he saw her entering the alley.

"Fuck…" he muttered, looking in every direction. "Where the hell did she…?"

It was the perfect time to strike. Letting go of the water-pipes, she landed straight to the man, throwing him on the ground. Such was the man's surprise that he didn't even get the chance to fight back as she pinned him down, holding hands behind his back and one of her knees against his spine.

"Fuck! Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean anything by it! I just wanted your rucksack!" he cried. He tried to get up but it was impossible. Her grip wasn't only tight, but also painful as hell.

"All this trouble for one rucksack? I don't think so," Aline replied, her voice resembling a growl. "What's your name?"

"What?" the man exclaimed.

"Your name. Now."

The man swallowed hard. "Peter. Peter Hobson."

"Well, Peter, Peter Hobson, why were you following me?"

"I wanted to rob you!"

"Nice try. There was man with a briefcase who looked like he had more money in his wallet than I," she hissed. "Now out with it, or I'll break every bone in your body and leave you here to rot! Something tells me you won't be missed."

"I'm not a snitch, okay?"

"True, you're a corpse." She tightened her grip and got ready to dislocate the right shoulder.

"Fine, I'll talk!" Peter exclaimed.

"Good boy," Aline said, yet she kept her tone cold and threatening. "Start talking."

"It didn't mean anything!" Derek said. "I just wanted some money, so this bloke came up to me and said he'd give me two hundred quid, and all I had to do was follow you and steal your rucksack. He said it was just a harmless prank!"

"An expensive prank, if you ask me," Aline said. "What did he look like?"

"Who?" Peter asked dumbly.

"The man who hired you!" Aline said, tugging the arms forcefully behind his back, making him cry out. "_Don't_ try my patience. It's already wearing thin enough as it is!"

"Alright, alright!" Peter couldn't help but tremble now. "Tall, wiry man, late thirties, blue eyes, auburn hair, sounded like a Londoner… but that's all I know, I swear!"

"You had better be telling the truth," Aline said, "Or _I _swear that I'll hunt you down and chop your head off." The smell of urine reached her nostrils, making them twitch. It didn't take a great mind to guess that Peter had just wet himself. "That's right, Peter. You only have one life. If you value it, you will go home and never look back." She pressed a foot against his back. "Count up to thirty. Don't get up till then or I'll break your neck. Understood?"

"Yes. Up to thirty. Not earlier."

"Good. Now start."

"One, two, three, four…"

By the time Peter had reached number ten, Aline had grabbed her rucksack and taken off. Her search had just gotten a lot easier.

TBC...


	5. Buried Memories

Silence reigned in the Hub as all three agents sat on their chairs, waiting for someone, anyone to speak. Jack was frowning and lost in thought, while Ianto had in his hands the printed file that contained Alice Hapgood's data. Gwen, however, kept her arms and legs crossed, and she seemed like she could barely control her temper in check. Such was the tension that it seemed to smother them all. Finally, though, Gwen decided that she couldn't stand quiet any longer.

"You _knew_ her."f

"I did," Jack said.

"How could you not remember you knew her?"

"Different era, different clothes, different hairstyle and different make-up… Times change, Gwen. I'm the only one who remains the same."

"'Till now, that is," Ianto pointed out.

Gwen nodded. "So how well did you know her, Jack? You had to work together, right?"

Jack let out a heavy sigh. "Not well enough, apparently."

* * *

_Jack watched the lone woman sitting at the desk, examining several documents containing samples of alien languages. She seemed thoughtful, hazel-green eyes narrowing slightly behind the unflattering reading glasses, and utterly focused on her work. She didn't even pay attention to her surroundings, or she would have realised that all the other Torchwood operatives had retired long ago. In fact, it was just her and Jack in the entire Hub._

_Now that was too good an opportunity to pass up… as long as she showed interest, of course._

"_You shouldn't tire those pretty eyes of yours," Jack said, walking up to her. "It's a crime, really."_

_She looked up. "Pardon?"_

_Jack pointed at his strap, which made Alice look at her wristwatch. She winced as she looked at the time and sighed. _

"_Not again."_

"'_Fraid so," Jack said with a small smile. "But I'm sure your significant other will understand why you were late."_

"_I doubt he'd understand even if I _had_ one," Alice said, taking off her glasses. She pinched the bridge of her nose, a sign as to how tired she was._

"_A fine lady like you? I find that hard to believe," Jack said, resting his back against the desk as she stood next to her. He kept his hands in his pockets and his legs crossed; the epitome of a guy relaxed and innocently chatting with a colleague._

"_There are men who believe women should stay home and cook roast beef while their husbands provide the necessities," Alice said with a smile, standing up to put the files in their place._

"_True, but you fight alien threats," Jack pointed out._

"_In which case I'm claiming the supposedly 'rightful' place of a man to be the fighter," Alice pointed out, locking the documents inside the safe, away from prying eyes._

"_There are plenty of ways to fight besides the obvious, physical one," Jack said. "Decoding these files is as important as capturing aliens; in some ways, even more so."_

"_Oh? In what way?" Alice asked, raising an eyebrow._

"_You help us gain the knowledge we need to deal with the aliens and use their gear to our advantage," Jack replied. "Without it, we'd be like kids trying to learn how to read on their own with no teacher to help us out and guide us to the right direction."_

"_Even if the teacher is a woman?"_

_Jack shrugged. "We can label things any way we want but, in the end, we're just people. People with the potential to be brave or cowards, smart or daft, warriors or peacemakers, even good or evil. It takes all kinds of people to make this world go round."_

_Alice regarded Jack closely. "A noble man. I never thought you had it in you, Mr. Harkness," she said._

"_Please, call me Jack."_

"_As you wish then… Jack."_

_Jack smiled. "So, here we are, two people stuck in an office and talking. How about we take this conversation somewhere more pleasant?"_

"_Very tempting," Alice said. "Does more pleasant include dinner to this new restaurant that opened a couple of blocks away?"_

_Jack certainly liked her way of thinking. "Settled then?"_

"_Settled. Let me grab my coat."_

"_Allow me," Jack said. "Equality between genders is one thing, wanting to do something nice for my date is quite another," he added, answering her questioning look._

"_Date? Was all that just a clever ruse to ask me out, Harkness?" she asked in a teasing tone, amused._

"_Depends on whether it worked or not," Jack said, smiling as he helped her into her coat._

"_Oh, it worked," she said with a soft giggle. However, she turned around in the next moment, and leaned up to him to whisper to his ear. "Although just saying 'Would you like to go out with me?' would have worked just as well." She drew back, smiled at him, and then turned on her heel, her shoes clicking melodiously on the floor as she headed towards the exit._

_Jack decided that this was swiftly becoming a very promising night._

* * *

_Jack's instincts had been right. Alice had proved a charming company throughout dinner, either keeping up with serious conversation or sharing a joke or two. And, when they had finally deemed it was time to leave, he not only had the chivalrous courtesy to pay for dinner, but he had even offered to take her home. More importantly, she hadn't seemed to mind at all, but she had accepted the offer with a smile. So now, they were walking down the street, heading towards the place Alice lived in._

"_Are you sure about leaving the car behind?" Alice asked. "Mr. Ford will probably miss it in the morning."_

"_I'll have it back by then. And besides, what Edward doesn't know won't hurt him," Jack said with a grin. "Right now, I'd rather enjoy this lovely spring night."_

"_It's nice," Alice admitted. "Nothing like Southern Europe, though. The nights there are so warm that you don't even need a coat to circulate."_

"_You've been to Europe?" Jack asked, genuinely curious._

"_My father was a diplomat; I've been in all sorts of places," Alice said._

"_And after your father died?" Jack remembered reading that sort of information in her file, so he supposed now it was a good chance to ask about that._

"_I haven't found the place where I can settle down quietly," Alice replied with a slight shrug._

"_Not even in Cardiff?"_

"_I like it here, don't get me wrong," Alice said. "But nothing lasts forever."_

"_So you're planning on leaving again one day?" Jack asked softly._

"_Eventually. Provided I don't get myself killed in the meantime," the woman said. "Being a Torchwood agent isn't all that easy."_

"_So why did you choose to become one?"_

"_I'm here. I might as well do something that will make a difference."_

"_Is that the only reason?"_

_Alice pursed her lips in thought. "No. There are also a lot of things in this world that are beyond the realm of the norm like most humans perceive it. I might as well learn about them, and apply reason to the biggest question of all."_

"_Why are we here," Jack said almost without thinking. He had been plagued by the same question, too. Why was he stranded here, unable to die, waiting in hope for the Doctor to finally show up? Why couldn't he have this sense of belonging somewhere?_

_Alice nodded. "Funny," she said softly. "You sounded like you know what I'm talking about."_

So did you,_ Jack decided to keep that thought to himself, though. "I'm a man of the world, too."_

"_I see," the woman said. She came to a halt in front of a small green door and looked up at Jack. "Well, this is my home. Thanks for the dinner, Jack."_

_Jack chuckled. "No, thank _you_. You picked a good place for our outing."_

_Alice smiled, and she dug out the keys out of her pocket. She unlocked the door, but she didn't go inside at once, clearly contemplating something. As she made up her mind, she looked back at the man._

"_Do you want to come in?"_

_Jack couldn't bring himself to say no. Walking up the remainder of the steps, he closed the gap between them and locked their lips together in a kiss before shutting the door behind them. _

* * *

Silence followed, and Jack took the cup of coffee that was on the desk and had a sip. He didn't look either Ianto or Gwen in the eye, though. He simply let them process his story in their minds.

"And you didn't realise that there was something wrong with her in all this time that she worked for Torchwood?" Gwen asked.

Jack looked up at the woman quite sharply. "Define 'wrong.'"

Gwen must have realised how bad her words sounded, because her expression softened to an apologetic look.

"I mean, it could have been more than just a little suspicious that she didn't grow any older, right?"

"She didn't have the chance," Ianto said in that moment, his eyes locked on the computer screen. "According to the data here, she died in 1952."

"Died?" Gwen echoed incredulously.

"Alien attack, to be precise," Ianto said. "Right here in the Hub."

"Oh my God," Gwen said softly, and she faced Jack. "What happened?"

Jack bowed his head, the memories coming back to him in his mind's eye.

"Power failure."

* * *

"_So, Jack, what can you tell me about the alien we captured?" Edward asked, sitting at his desk with a tired sigh._

"_I can tell you one thing. I'm glad he's locked up."_

"_That dangerous, then?"_

"_Worse," Jack replied. "His race is well-known for raiding other planets, razing everything to the ground and leaving none alive. Think of them as the Vikings that raided and looted the British coasts in the Dark Ages."_

_Edward nodded his understanding. "We should send him back in the Rift, then. As soon as we gather all the information we need, that is."_

"_No, as soon as possible," Jack said. "Putting the Hub at risk isn't worth the tests you want to put him, or his weapons, through."_

"_You seem to forget what this facility is about, Jack," Edward said, looking at the former Time-agent in a cold manner. "We use every single thing we can take from our alien visitors. If it's on Earth, it's ours."_

"_Ed…"_

_Jack never managed to finish his sentence, for it was in that moment that all the lights went out, bathing everything in darkness._

"_What the devil?" Edward exclaimed._

"_We'll find out later! Now we have to bring the power back!" Jack said, standing up._

"_The auxiliary power should have started automatically!" Edward said, digging two torches out of his drawer._

"_Well, it didn't. And that means one angry alien's out of the vaults," Jack said, cocking his Webley. "Got your gun?"_

"_Always," Edward replied, lighting the torches._

"_Okay," Jack said. "The others have probably taken cover by now. If we act quickly, we'll drive the alien back to the vaults and then find out what the problem with the power is."_

"_And if it's sabotage?" Edward asked._

_Jack winced. "Then we have a problem."_

_A scream filled the air, making both men rush out of the office as fast as they could. They went down the stairs, only to stop on their tracks when they caught sight of something moving towards them._

"_Hold it right there!" Jack cried, holding up his Webley._

"_Please, Mr. Harkness, don't shoot! It's me, Sarah!" the girl said, coming out of the shadows with her hands up and in a state of panic._

"_Good God, Sarah!" Edward said, taking her in his arms and holding her close. "What happened?"_

"_We tried to find what the problem was with the power, but then that alien came into the room and came after us. It… it started killing us one by one… cutting us in half!" Sarah buried her face in Edward's chest, trembling violently._

"_Sarah, focus on me," Jack said, trying to keep his tone calm. "Did anyone else manage to escape?"_

"_There… There was Alice," Sarah answered. "She… She was with me, dead calm, and she told me to get out; that she would deal with the alien herself."_

"_How?" Jack asked with a frown. As far as he knew, Alice didn't know how to fight._

"_I don't know! I'm just telling you what she said!"_

_Jack decided that he didn't like the sound of that at all. _

"_Ed, take Sarah out of here and seal the Hub. I'll try to find Alice."_

"_It might be in vain," Edward pointed out._

"_I'm not leaving without her," Jack declared. "Now go!"_

_Edward opened his mouth as if to say something else, but, in the end, he just prodded Sarah to follow him outside. Meanwhile, Jack moved further inside the Hub, unsure of what he would come across, but nevertheless prepared for anything. What worried him, the most, however, was the silence that reigned in the base. Nothing seemed to stir as he went further down the base, not even when he reached the door at the end of the corridor._

"_Alice?" Jack said softly, hoping that there would be an answer. _

_There was none. Just the blood splayed on the walls and the floor, both green and red._

"_Alice?"_

_And then… he found her._

"_ALICE!"_

* * *

Gwen stared at Jack for many long moments, but Jack didn't speak. He simply looked down at his cup, now drained of the coffee the former Time-agent drank while telling his story.

"The alien killed her?" she finally breathed out.

"They killed each other," Jack replied. "By the looks of it, she had jabbed a pen-knife in his throat, but he had slashed her stomach."

"So she was dead? Really dead?"

"I felt for a pulse myself. There was nothing."

"Apparently, she didn't stay dead," Ianto said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Yeah." Just then, however, another thought crossed Jack's mind, and he stood up, placing the cup on the desk.

Gwen and Ianto watched him go towards the lower levels, not really understanding what their boss was up to.

"Jack…?" Gwen started

"I need to check something!" Jack called back, not bothering to slow down or look back.

"I'm coming with you!" Ianto declared, hurrying after the former Time-agent.

Jack didn't object. He simply walked on, barely looking at Ianto as they reached the grimmest place of their underground headquarters: the last resting place of every single Torchwood member ever since the agency started operating in Cardiff.

"What are you trying to find?" Ianto asked, trying to sound calm and business-like.

"Confirming that there _is _a body missing and we aren't dealing with a doppelganger," Jack replied.

"Martha said that we're dealing with a human," Ianto pointed out.

"There are no undying, immortal humans."

"There is you."

"I'm just a fixed point in time and space."

"You think she's like you then?"

Jack shrugged as he still looked at all the names in the plaques. "No harm in knowing."

"And if she is?"

Jack pursed his lips and didn't answer. He didn't even turn around when he heard Ianto sigh and put his hands in his pockets; for it was in that moment that he found what he had been looking for. Reading the name 'Alice Hapgood' in the plaque, he opened the small door and pulled the stretcher out. It was closed airtight, so the window was quite foggy; neither Jack nor Ianto could look inside.

Both men exchanged a look, and then Jack turned the latch. A hissing sound filled the air sharply, and the lid practically sprang to reveal the contents inside.

Except there was nothing in there.

"We got our answer," Ianto said softly.

"Yeah." Jack closed the stretcher back in place, and he turned on his heel, heading for the exit. "Fill the SUV up. We're going after her."

"The CCTV scanning has come up empty so far," Ianto said. "She could be anywhere."

"That's why we'll go out in the streets," Jack answered.

"Maybe not yet," Gwen said, coming up to them and obviously overhearing Jack and Ianto. "I just got a call from Andy. He said that a man came to the police station, raving about a woman who almost killed him."

"So?" Jack asked, puzzled.

"The description fits Aline Adler to a tee."

Jack realised that luck was on their side, at last. "What's the raving man's name?"

"Peter Hobson."

Jack nodded. "Okay. I think it's time to pay this Peter Hobson a visit."

TBC...


	6. The Tattoo

Dave Banning, a 25-year-old chubby man, never saw much excitement in his life. He simply ran the small pet-shop he had inherited from his father, and he spent most of his days there, taking care of things. After all, there was nothing challenging about handing pet accessories or pet food to the usual clients that dropped by every now and then. So, he sat behind the counter, listening to the local news on the radio and shaking his head. Especially today, as he heard about a murdered barrister and how the police were looking into the case.

"Excuse me."

Dave looked up at once, and he stood up when he saw a young woman about his age, regarding him over the counter. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"I found this," at that, she held up a collar, "in a park nearby and it looks new. Could this be yours?"

"Let me have a look at the registration number for you," Dave offered.

She nodded and handed the collar over. The number, Dave decided, was easy enough, and he soon found the answer in his computer.

"It is, actually," he said, straightening his glasses. "And I even remember the bloke who bought it."

"Really?" she asked, sounding surprised.

"Well, yeah. Not many people buy this sort of collar. Number one, it's expensive, and, number two, there's the animal cruelty issue to think about," Dave answered.

"Yet you sold it to that gentleman?"

Dave shrugged. "He insisted. And, as you can see, the dog didn't appreciate it and managed to get it off at the first chance. I guess he'll know better in the future."

"What's his name?"

Dave frowned. "Um… Jim Summers… Although I'm not sure…"

"Hold on," she said in the very moment, "I think I know him. A tall man, very thin with blue eyes and…"

"Auburn hair, yeah," Dave said with a smile, relaxing. "Friend of yours?"

"Colleague of my dad's, actually. Can't say I know him that well," she said. "Is his house nearby? I'm on my way to my work and I could go to his place."

"Sure," Dave said, having another look at the computer screen. "Uh… Yes, he is on Victoria Street. Do you know it?"

"I think so. About a block away, isn't it?"

"That's right."

She grinned. "Then I'll give it to him on my way back. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Dave said, watching her go. She certainly was charming and he did consider calling her and asking her out on a date. But, he also realised that he'd probably be aiming too high.

"In other news, police are trying to locate a key witness to the murder case of Robert Adler. The woman is in her early twenties, slim, about 5,5'', with brown short hair and hazel-green eyes. She's most probably wearing a red top and black trousers. If you do see her, please contact…"

Dave felt his eyes widening, and he stared back at the door, where the exact same woman the radio described walked out from.

"Bloody hell…"

* * *

When Jack, Gwen and Ianto arrived at the police station, Andy was already waiting for them by the entrance to give them a small debriefing of the situation so far. He walked ahead, casting his gaze on the team every once in a while as he guided them onwards.

"He's over in the interrogation room, just as you asked," the young officer said. "He hasn't said much ever since he came here and has requested protection. Not that he had to really."

"Meaning?" Gwen asked, frowning.

"Meaning that this gentleman," with that, Andy pointed at the door of the interrogation room, through the small window, "has been convicted for some interesting crimes of his own. Burglary, mugging, stealing… Anything that would ensure his next fix."

"So I take it he's shaking because he's missing a particular something?" Ianto asked dryly, his eyes locked on the window as he looked inside.

Taking this as an invitation to look inside as well, Jack did just that, scrutinising the 20-year-old man. Peter Hobson was fidgety for sure, but apparently not because of the policewoman that was standing at the chair opposite him, guarding him. In fact, Hobson barely looked at the woman. What was curious, however, was the fact that he kept his back against the wall.

Jack raised an eyebrow and regarded Andy in a curious manner.

Andy shrugged. "Yeah, he's refused to keep his back exposed. He says she's going to come and chop his head off."

"She what?" Gwen exclaimed.

Jack, however, didn't want to lose any more precious time. He turned the knob and walked before neither Ianto nor Gwen could stop him. The police-woman stood up and got ready to demand the purpose of a civilian's presence in the room (Jack certainly didn't look like a lawyer in his military coat), but the former Time-Agent flashed his special Torchwood ID. That was enough for her, so she just nodded and walked out, leaving Jack in the privacy he needed.

Peter gave Jack the once over, a frown settling on his features. "You don't look like a copper."

"I'm not," Jack replied. "But I still want to hear what you have to say about this woman who is after you."

Peter huffed and shook his head. "I've already told everything to the cops, mate."

"Really?" Jack said, stalking up to him. "What you told the police was that this woman…"

"This bitch," Peter corrected vehemently.

Jack tapped his fingers on the table, still pacing slowly and full of purpose. "This _woman _attacked you out of the blue and threatened to kill you."

"Yeah," Hobson said, crossing his arms. "And I want her arrested."

Now that was certainly new. Jack hadn't expected that the man was bold enough to make such a demand, considering how scared he was a mere hour ago. It probably meant that Hobson was getting quite irritable and impatient, wanting to get back to his attacker and then leave in search for his fix.

Well, time to change that.

"Hobson, as cliché as that is going to sound, there's no crime without an ulterior motive."

"There was no motive, mate. She was just fucking crazy!"

Jack chuckled. "Oh, no… You know what the really crazy thing is? A drug addict claiming that a murdered barrister's wife and a fugitive attacked him for no reason."

"Well if she killed that barrister guy…" Hobson started.

"I never said she did," Jack said coldly, placing his hands on the surface of the table. "And even if that were true, she would have been cold-blooded enough to chop your head right there and then instead of letting you go and expose her."

Peter blinked at the force of nature Jack proved and he swallowed hard. Jack, however, was far from done. He grabbed the chair and sat down, his eyes never leaving Hobson's.

"Last chance. Care to tell the truth now?"

Hobson nodded, relenting.

* * *

The moment that Jack marched inside the interrogation room, Andy had suggested that Gwen and Ianto should watch everything from the adjacent room, where there was a mirror for that very purpose. Gwen thanked him for the offer and so, a few minutes later, while Andy was called over to the phone, the two Torchwood members were left alone inside the room. Though both of them looked in the direction of Jack and Peter Hobson, however, they were preoccupied with thoughts that kept haunting their minds.

"Ianto, how are you holding up?" Gwen asked, breaking the spell of silence between them.

"It was in 1947. Not even my mother was born back then," the young man answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

"And Jack forgot about her in sixty years," Gwen pointed out. "Is that what is going to happen to Tosh and Owen? To us?"

"He remembers what's important."

"Maybe…" she admitted. "But will we be that important in a thousand years' time?"

Ianto opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't have the chance. Jack stepped out of the room, looking determined and meaning business.

"Any luck?" Gwen asked.

"No. But we're not giving up," Jack said, answering the looks of disappointment that crossed Ianto and Gwen's eyes. "Gwen, where's Andy?"

"He had to take a phone call," Gwen answered.

"Okay, as soon as he gets back, we're going through the criminal records. Peter Hobson was hired by someone, and there's a chance that that someone did this sort of thing before."

"So we're not the only ones after her," Ianto said.

"Apparently not," Jack said. "We just have to make sure we find her first." He turned around, just in time to see Andy walking up to them once more. "Ah, PC Andy, the very man I wanted to see."

"You did?" Andy asked, certainly surprised.

"Sure thing," Jack replied, putting on his charming smile. "We need to have a look at your criminal records."

Andy blinked. "All of them?"

"No," Jack said patiently. "Just all the wiry, auburn-haired criminals."

"Um…" Andy said, quite hesitantly, "I may have something better. Your ladyfriend has been spotted again."

Jack froze, looking Andy straight in the eye. "Where?"

"In a pet store on Dew street. The owner talked to her and unwittingly gave her the address of a certain James Summers before he realised who she was," Andy answered. "You know, for a fugitive on the run, she does a pretty bad job in keeping a low profile."

"She still manages to be a step ahead of us," Jack said, turning to Ianto. "Ianto, search for anything you can find out about James Summers. Gwen, get the address and let's move out."

"Hang on, what is so important about that girl that has you running about?" Andy asked, clearly unsure what to make of matters and yet wishing for an answer.

"Classified," Jack called, striding towards the exit. "I need that address, Gwen!"

Gwen held up a hand. "Andy, please. We have to find her."

Andy hesitated. "Is she that dangerous?"

"We don't know yet. But even if she is, we can deal with her."

Andy contemplated matters for a few more moments. In the end, however, he relented with a nod and wrote the address on a piece of paper.

"Thank you."

"Just be careful," Andy answered.

"Aren't we always?" Gwen said with a smile. Granted, she could recall the times that they weren't careful, but Andy didn't need to know about them.

"Gwen." Ianto's voice sounded. He was already at the door, following Jack outside.

"Coming!" the woman said and, after a brief 'see you' in Andy's direction, she joined Jack and Ianto. The former Time-agent was on the driver's seat, while the young Welshman was sitting next to him, still doing his research on the PDA.

"What could this Summers person possibly want with her?" she asked as she settled on the on the back seat.

"I don't know yet, but I think we can add another murder suspect on our list," Jack said, driving away.

Gwen frowned. "You don't think she killed Robert Adler then?"

"Why kill someone when you can outlive them?" Jack pointed out. "Besides, the first thing one does after committing murder is either get out of the city, or stay put and think of a nice, ridiculous story to tell. And what does she do?"

"She goes after James Summers," Gwen answered, and realisation caught up with her. "Oh, my god…"

"Yeah," Jack said. "She was with Robert Adler and they got out of the restaurant together. They went to get the car, but Summers, or somebody that Summers hired, set the Weevil loose to surprise them. Robert Adler ended up dead, but Aline survived, so now she's trying to get even."

"She took the collar and tracked down the buyer."

"Bingo."

"Took the word out of my mouth," Ianto said in that moment. "James Summers, aged 38. Born in London and stayed there all of his life. He was working as a bank clerk until five years ago, when he quit. Since then, he's been keeping a small antique shop on Victoria Street."

"That's where his house is," Gwen noted.

"Saves us some trouble," Jack said.

Ianto, however, frowned in the next moment. "Now that is something I don't see every day."

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"He had been arrested for reckless driving and resisting authority a year ago," Ianto answered, "But the odd part is that he has a tattoo on his wrist." Indeed, when he held up the mugshot, both Jack and Gwen clearly saw a black circle with an Aries-like symbol in it, contrasting violently with the white skin.

"It _is_ unusual," the woman admitted. "But what's so special about it?"

"I've seen it before."

Gwen and Jack stared at Ianto incredulously, and the former Time-agent asked the question that crossed both their minds.

"When?"

"Eyes on the road," Ianto instructed. "And it was three years ago, when I was in Torchwood One."

"Okay, Ianto, I think you should tell the whole story because you aren't making much sense now," Gwen said. "I thought you worked there as a junior archivist."

"I was," Ianto replied. "Except a colleague by the name Thomas Anderson used to work with me, and he had a tattoo just like Summers'."

"So?" Jack asked, frowning.

"He always looked for files that contained unusual activities and rituals here, on Earth. I didn't know what kind of rituals at first, but, one night, we went to a pub for a drink and he got so drunk that he just started rambling. Talking about the Game."

Gwen blinked. "What is the Game?"

"I'm not sure; he wasn't making much sense," Ianto admitted. "He just kept saying that we're not alone and that there was a constant battle going on under our very noses and, in the end, there would be only one left to get the Prize."

"Well, didn't he explain himself the next moment, when he was sober?" Gwen insisted.

"No," Ianto said. "He just said he'd been talking about a script he was working on."

"And you believed him?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I knew he was lying even without basic psychic training," Ianto said. "I got curious, so I did some research of my own. I didn't find all that much, but I know that Thomas Anderson had been in another kind of association."

"What association was it?" Gwen asked.

"I don't know. I never got that far."

"It's not important. What _is _important is that there's a chance Summers belongs to the same group, and going after Aline isn't mere coincidence," Jack said.

"Her blood," Gwen said, a horrible suspicion forming in her mind. "But that also means…"

"Yeah. There are more of those Immortals, and they're being hunted down." Jack said, stepping on the gas.

TBC…


	7. In The Building

Aline walked on, pretending not to notice her surroundings. It was 7 o'clock and already quite dark, but she didn't mind. It gave her the opportunity to scrutinise the building that towered before her from across the street without drawing attention to herself. It wasn't overly tall, about three floors or so, with an antique shop on the ground floor. More importantly, it looked like the antique shop belonged to James Summers, if the name on the window were any indication.

_Right_. Aline walked up to the door and turned the handle, but she quickly discovered that it was locked. Apparently, Summers decided it would be best if he lay low for a while.

"Damn it," she muttered to herself. It looked like she would have to find a hiding spot and wait for Summers's return.

"Oh dear. Is he closed again?" an old woman's voice said in that moment.

Aline turned around, regarding the old woman that was standing next to her. She was definitely older than eighty, slightly crouching, squinting as if her sight was poor, with a thick black coat and a cane that supported her as she walked.

"I'm afraid so," Aline said, deepening her voice a pitch to make herself sound older.

The old woman shook her head. "He always goes out on business. How does he manage to keep the place without an assistant, I'll never know."

Aline thought about matters. "Do you know when does he usually return?"

"Not really, dear," the old woman replied. "Did you try his home? It's right here, on the second floor."

Another breakthrough. Aline supposed she was quite lucky today. "Actually, no, could you point me to it?" she asked.

"Of course, dear. There it is," the old woman said, pointing at a particular window. "Hold on, let me get the keys out so we can both go in."

"Thank you," Aline said. "Let me help you with the stairs."

"Oh, thank _you, _dear," the old woman said, holding on to Aline's arm. "My legs aren't what they used to be."

"You are doing fine," Aline said with a smile. "I'm sure there are many wishing they could reach your age and so healthy."

The old woman smiled as well. "That's really nice of you, dear. But, let's face it, we can't live forever."

Aline chose not to respond to that.

"Ah, there's the elevator," the old woman said in that moment, and both of them walked up to it so Aline could press the button. "Thank you very much, dear. I hope you find him."

"That makes two of us," Aline said. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, dear," the old woman replied, and the door of the elevator closed behind her.

Aline waited for a few moments, making sure her acquaintance was gone, and then she hurried up the stairs. She had a strong sense of direction, so she would be able to find Summers' apartment in no time.

_Let's see, _Aline thought, examining all the doors down the corridor. _Logically, it should be… this one._ She looked for the doorbell and pressed it, listening to the melodious sound echoing inside. She knew that the man would be able to see her through the small hole in the door, but she was more interested to check if Summers _was _inside. She would be able to listen to his footsteps as he'd come up to the door.

After several moments passing by, however, there was nothing. Aline didn't hear anything when she rang the doorbell again either. She did feel eyes watching her, though, so she turned around and checked the door across from her. She managed to pick up the sound of a body shifting behind the door, and she realised what was going on. And she had the right kind of medicine for such nosy parkers. Tugging her lips into a sultry smile, she sauntered over to the door and placed a hand on the doorframe, leaning on it so that her slender body stretched in quite the sexy manner.

"Hey, baby… How about we have some fun till my customer shows up?" she purred in a husky, low tone. "Mind you, I charge extra if a significant other is to join us."

There was a scandalised exclamation from inside, and then the sound of a woman ranting about what this world was coming to and why did God ever let such deviants roam freely in this world. Finally, there was the fading sound of footsteps, a sign that the woman had hastily retreated further inside, abandoning her snooping.

_Oh, that was almost too easy_, Aline thought, chuckling softly to herself. With that matter taken care of, she decided it was high time she found out a bit more about James Summers. And, fortunately, she had the right skill for it. Checking to her left and right to make sure no one walked in the same corridor, she then opened her rucksack and then took out a big broach with a green stone on it. It wasn't all that valuable, truth be told, but Robert had given it to her on that ill-fated anniversary and she felt she could not part with it. Now, however, it was going to serve a completely different kind of purpose. Or should she say… the hinge pin?

Sure enough, a few expert moves later, the door was open. Aline threw the broach back in the rucksack and marched inside, closing the door behind her once more. The room was dark, but she didn't risk turning on the light. She simply closed her eyes tightly for several moments before opening them again, her vision now perfectly adjusted to the little light coming from the window.

Hmm… By the look of things, the apartment wasn't overly big or crammed with furniture; she would be able to move easily and explore everything without taking too long. Even so, she pulled her sword out of her rucksack and held it firmly in her hand. The relatively short, leaf-shaped blade shone brightly, practically a part of her own arm as she moved stealthily in the room. That was one of the reasons she preferred it over, say, longswords. Though she could wield them – despite popular belief, they weren't all that heavy – her fighting style didn't rely on strength. Besides, she wouldn't be able to use a longsword in such a small space.

All right, there was nothing of interest in the living room. And, apparently, the bathroom was clear, more or less; she could only find some toothpaste and a toothbrush. The kitchen was fairly empty, too - just a couple of dirty plates in the sink and a refrigerator that contained very few things, which were all close to their expiration date.

When she went to the bedroom and opened the wardrobe, however, she decided that she had indeed come across something important. Granted, there was nothing to be seen at first glance, but that was what made things so important. There were no swords or at least cans of oil for taking care of rusty iron blades. Yes, there was the possibility that this guy carried just one sword with him – that's what she did, after all – and there was such a thing called stainless steel. Even so, there was the matter of her death. If she were really dealing with another Immortal, she would have sensed him, she was sure of it.

She closed the wardrobe and turned on her heel, intending to exit the room. She had barely taken five steps, however, when her ears picked up something odd. She retraced her steps, and she heard it again, right under her right foot.

One of the floorboards felt hollow. In fact, when Aline removed the thin rug and examined the floorboards more closely, she discovered that it was even loose.

_Well, well… what's you secret, Mr. Summers?_ Aline thought, removing the loose board. A shoe-box was safely tucked in there, but the woman doubted it contained actual shoes.

Her doubts became a certainty, however, when she opened the box and found a lot of photographs of her. Sometimes alone, having a stroll, other times with Robert… and two instances of her battling another Immortal. Summers had even captured the lightshow of the Quickenings!

"What the hell?" she whispered, appalled.

* * *

The Torchwood SUV practically screeched as Jack put on the brakes right outside James Summers' antique shop. Jack simply shut off the engine, hardly fazed, and stepped out with Ianto and Gwen close to his heels. That would have certainly been an easier task for the woman if her stomach would stop churning, though.

"You okay?" Ianto asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, just one full-throttled turn too many," she admitted. "I suppose you're used to it."

"Dramamine," the young man said with a shrug. "Never leave home without it."

"Okay, this looks like the place," Jack declared in that moment, cutting in. "Ianto, the alien lock-picking device, if you please."

"There you go," the younger man said, handing over the item.

"Do you think she's already in there?" Gwen asked with a frown.

"One way to find out," Jack said, using the device to open the door.

"What, are we going to ask everyone if they've seen her?" Gwen asked.

"Not quite," Jack answered. "Ianto."

Ianto nodded his understanding, and he reached for the fire-alarm on the wall, activating it. The deafening ringing filled the air and, in a few moments, people started exiting their apartments. Others walked more slowly, some more panicked, some fully clothed and some with just their pyjamas… or their sheets.

"There's a chance she'll blend in," Gwen pointed out.

"We won't let that happen," Jack said, digging out of his military coat three devices that looked like tasers. "Tosh had managed to reassemble these before her death. We'll be able to electrocute her from a distance without using any cables."

"Is that really necessary?" Gwen asked, looking at the alien-taser dubiously.

"We don't want to kill her," Jack pointed out. "Gwen, guard the lift. Ianto, take the first floor and I'll take the second and third."

Both men went up the stairs and out of sight, leaving Gwen wincing. She wasn't sure what kind of effect would the tasers have on Aline, but, if she was anything like Jack…

"Bugger…"

It was with a heavy heart that she stood guard by the elevator.

* * *

"We could check all the floors together," Ianto pointed out as both men went up the stairs. It was a bit difficult going against the current of people who headed downstairs, but it didn't stop them from doing their job.

"Not risking it," Jack replied, checking the small sign that said, 'First Floor'. "Go."

"Jack, what if she…?" Ianto started.

"Ianto, I gave you an order," Jack said, firmly and with finality.

Ianto opened his mouth as if ready to voice his objections anyway, but Jack held up a hand in warning. It was all that it took for the younger man to finally relent, although it was quite clear that he didn't like it at all.

Jack watched him go and sighed. Ianto had been like this ever since the incident with Grey. Some would describe it as more overprotective, others as mother-hen. And at times like these, Jack didn't understand the mortal man at all. It wasn't Jack who could die...

Now, however, it wasn't the time to think about that. They had an immortal being to catch. Holding up the taser, he continued up the stairs, eyes darting in every direction to catch even a glimpse of her in case she tried to escape.

He finally found her in the corridor of the second floor, but she didn't look like she was trying to run away. She was simply standing in the middle of the corridor, hazel-green eyes regarding Jack warily and her hands clenched into fists.

"I'll make a wild guess and say you set off the alarm," she said, not moving an inch from her spot.

"Good guess… Alice," Jack replied.

"So you remembered," she noted. "Normally I'd make sure you didn't breathe any of this to anyone, but it looks like we're in the same boat."

"I'm not like you," Jack said.

"Definitely not, I would have felt it if you were," Aline answered. "But you're ageless, nonetheless."

Jack wasn't sure what Aline meant by 'felt'. He still had her talking, though, and he supposed he could use it to his advantage.

"And unable to die. Just like you," he said.

Aline nodded her understanding. "A Torchwood experiment gone wrong?"

"No. I was like that even when I met you," Jack said.

"I see. Well, as interesting as this reunion is, you should step back. I have no quarrel with you."

"I can't let you go."

Aline's eyes flashed with anger. "I didn't kill Robert if that's what you think. Or even that Weevil, though I should have."

"I know you didn't," Jack said.

"Then why are you here, Jack?" she demanded. "Because of what I am?"

"Because I want to help you!"

"Torchwood doesn't help what it can use. I know how things work, remember?"

"It's not like that anymore; I've changed it for the better!" Jack said.

"That doesn't mean I have to answer to you!" she snapped. "You want to help? Forget you ever saw me and stay out of my way!"

"I know about Summers, Aline!" Jack said. "He's not what he seems!"

"He's the murderer of my husband and a threat to me and the others. That's enough to know!"

"And he's not alone! If you deal with Summers now, somebody else will just take his place!" Jack pointed out.

The brief surprise that was reflected in her eyes told Jack that Aline hadn't known about that. In the next moment, however, it vanished to be replaced with a steely expression.

"They can try," she declared with a low growl. "Now get out of my way."

Jack sighed. "Well, I tried. Sorry."

"For what?"

"For this." With that, Jack activated the alien taser.

It was supposed to be a shock that would have knocked out a human in less than a second. Even so, Aline simply bent over, biting her lip so as not to scream, and then she was back on her feet. She stepped forward, flicking her right hand in a smooth motion and revealing the sword that she had been hiding behind the length of her arm.

"Is that the best you can do?" she challenged.

Jack activated the taser again and she was down once more. It didn't stop her. She stubbornly staggered back on her feet, her sword in hand.

"You can kill me and I'll still get up," she said through gritted teeth, still walking towards him.

"I know…" Jack said, aware how true her words rang. As he realised that he was running out of options, he took out his Webley and fired, aiming at her heart. She made a motion to avoid the bullet, but it was obvious that the electroshocks had numbed her reflexes. So she fell on her knees, blood swiftly covering her chest and mouth, while eyes regarded Jack with pure anger and challenging him to finish her off.

"I'm sorry," Jack said in a soft tone.

The next bullet hit Aline between her eyes, killing her instantly.

TBC…


	8. Immortals

Getting Aline out of the building would have been a lot easier if the three Torchwood members didn't have to deal with covering up the whole incident. Namely, Jack had to put forth all his charm and authority to convince the firefighters that, yes, he had caused the fire-alarm, but it was necessary to get civilians out of the way in order to apprehend a dangerous criminal. Gwen, on the other hand, had to put claim over Aline's body so that the paramedics wouldn't take the body bag she was in; Torchwood was more than capable of handling dead people connected to their cases, after all. As for Ianto, he had to apologise about a dozen times about the inconvenience Torchwood had caused, and he even had to assure the landlord that he _would_ pay for all expenses so a new carpet would be installed… on all three floors.

In short, it was a long, frustrating procedure, one that left all three of them with quite the splitting headaches. It was a fortunate thing that Aline didn't gasp back to life in the meantime, or they would also have to deal with positively panic-stricken people screaming about zombies and the coming of the Apocalypse.

Actually, Aline remained dead throughout the whole thing. She didn't stir when she was placed on the back seat of the SUV (the trunk option just sounded plain cruel), or even when she was carried inside the Hub and laid down on the surgical table. Even the healthy hue on her cheeks was gone, making her seem by all means quite dead.

"Maybe you shouldn't have shot her," Gwen concluded, looking with a wince at the angry bullet wounds on the young woman's forehead and chest. "I thought you said we _don't_ want to kill her?"

"She didn't give me much choice in the matter," Jack said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Well, if it's any consolation, there will be more pizza left for us," Ianto said in the moment, appearing with two large square boxes with the label 'Jubilee Pizza' on them. "Shall I put them in the Boardroom?"

Gwen and Jack decided that Ianto could be a real lifesaver.

* * *

"So… how does it feel, Jack?"

It was Gwen who asked that question. All three Torchwood members had been eating their pizza for quite some time, letting comfortable silence fill the Boardroom. In the end, though, the woman decided that she had to say something, _any_thing.

Jack looked up from the pizza he was munching quite happily, more than just a little confused. "How does what feel?"

"You know… That you aren't the only one."

Ianto looked up as well, regarding both Gwen and Jack with a neutral expression.

Jack, however, shrugged. "Can't say the idea has sunk in yet," he answered truthfully. "And even if it had, I'm not like her. She knows it, and I know it."

"How do you know?"

"Three reasons. One, she asked me if I was a Torchwood experiment gone wrong. No mention of the Doctor," Jack said. "Two, she said that if I were like her, she would have felt it, whatever that means; and three," he wiped his fingers briefly on a serviette before digging into his pockets, "You don't see me running around in the middle of the night doing _this._"

He placed a stack of photographs on the table, drawing Gwen and Ianto's curiosity. Ianto picked up one in which Aline was clearly seen fighting a man, both of them wielding swords.

"I thought we were past settling arguments with duels," the young man said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Pity he's not in a position to argue anymore," Jack said.

This time, it was Gwen who picked up one of the photos. And when she did, she quickly placed her hand on her mouth not to gasp in shock and horror.

"Good god, Jack… She cut his head off!"

"And, apparently, _this _followed next," Jack said, holding up another photo, depicting a lightning storm. Both Ianto and Gwen's eyes widened when they saw Aline was in the centre of it, floating in mid-air and her back arched as the bright tendrils of the electric currents surged through her.

"What is _this_ supposed to be?" Gwen asked, more than just a little confused.

"The reason we're in hiding."

All three turned around at the sound of that calm, albeit rather weak, voice. Aline was indeed standing at the threshold, her wounds gone and a rosy colour back on her cheeks and lips. The only thing that gave away the grimness of her state till a few minutes ago was the dried blood that covered her top, making quite the surreal image.

"How's the head?" Jack asked, regarding Aline with quite the scrutiny.

"Like someone sent a bullet right through it," she replied dryly.

"I had to do it," Jack said. "You were too focused on Summers to see reason."

Aline gave him a long suffering look. "I've managed to stay alive in the last 3,000 years. Do you really think I need a dashing hero charging to my aid?"

Gwen blinked and exchanged a glance with Ianto. Sure, Martha had said that Aline could live long, but… they had never thought that anyone could actually be older than Jack!

"Yes," Jack replied in that moment, cutting into his colleagues' train of thought. He still looked Aline straight in the eye, unfazed by her anger. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

"I would have found out," she said stubbornly.

"The police would have found you faster by following the trail of heads you left behind," Jack said. "You're still considered a fugitive and a suspect for Robert Adler's death."

"If they didn't find me till now-" Aline started.

"-It's because we got to you first," Jack cut in. "And, unlike them, we're willing to hear your side of the story about this." He held up the photos of Aline battling the two men. "So start explaining."

Aline pursed her lips, her arms still crossed as she bowed her head; she was obviously contemplating her options. In the end, she sighed and sat on one of the vacant seats, her shoulders slightly slumping forward. Gwen noticed how the immortal woman's eyes softened in resignation, weariness swiftly catching up with her.

"I had to fight them. It was either them or me," she said, her voice slipping to a mature, albeit plaintive, depth.

"Are you saying that was self-defence?" Gwen asked, frowning. "I don't understand. Why would you-?"

"Fight for my life when I can't die?" Aline said, a wry smirk tugging on the corner of her lips. "Because we _can _die. All it takes is someone to take our head… and our power with it."

"I suppose that's where this comes in," Ianto said, holding up the photo of Aline being surrounded in lightning.

She nodded. "It's the victory zap for winning the fights. The idea is that the older an Immortal is, the greater power they have. Thus, the Immortal who receives the Quickening becomes more formidable so they can hopefully survive the next fight."

"So, what, you try to find one another across the country to cut your heads off?" Gwen said, clearly abhorred. "What is this, some sort of game?"

"Yes."

Ianto sat up, staring at Aline as realisation caught up with him. "You fight each other till only one of you is left. A constant battle under our very noses so one of you can claim the Prize," he said, recalling Anderson's words.

Aline nodded, obviously impressed by Ianto's skill of deduction. "In the end, there can be only one," she said.

"So what's so important about this Prize?" Jack asked. "It must be pretty big if it means killing people that you probably even like."

"No one knows for sure," Aline said, shrugging. "Some say it depends on who wins it. If it's a good person, then the world will see the dawn of a golden age; if it's a bad one, the world will be covered in darkness. Some say you'll gain ultimate knowledge… and some say you'll finally become mortal. Maybe even have children." Her voice softened at those last few words, but she shook her head. "Not that it's important. The Game started in the very beginnings of time, and more Immortals are being born every day."

"Hold on… Born?" Gwen said, frowning. "You mean it's like some sort of mutation in the genes?"

"If it were that simple, then mortal scientists would have known of Immortals long ago," Aline said. "There are many with the potential of becoming Immortals living among you, growing old with you, and dying of old age with you, never realising what they could have been."

"Obviously, you weren't one of them," Jack said dryly. "So what happened?"

Aline sighed. "I was raped and murdered. My sister-in-law didn't appreciate her brother being married to a barren woman, yet she knew a divorce would mean not getting her hands on my property. So she got rid of me."

"Oh…" Gwen's expression saddened in sympathy. "How old were you then?"

"Twenty-five," Aline replied. "Still, justice was served."

"How did you do it?" Jack asked, intrigued.

"Jack!" Gwen hissed.

"Actually, I didn't have to do anything," Aline said. "Seeing me walking up to her, drenched in my own blood, scared her out of her wits. Quite literally."

"And you kept _that_ as a memento?" Jack asked, nodding in the direction of Aline's sword. The weapon was on the table, quite some distance from the four people, its blade glistening harshly under the lights of the Boardroom.

"Immortals may survive the passing of time, but the swords don't. However," Aline took the sword in her hands, her fingers holding it trustingly and without error, "I admit that I wanted an exact replica of that sword… even better than the original, if possible." She smiled at it, as if it was a dear friend. "I honestly don't know who invented stainless steel, but I sure owe him; spending hours polishing blades to avoid corrosion can be a bother."

Gwen looked at the sword, cocking her head as curiosity overwhelmed her. "A bit small, isn't it?"

"I believe it's a Spartan sword," Ianto said, taking another bite off his pizza. "Soldiers needed them to be small so they could hang from a baldric under their left arm, ready to be used once the enemy was at close range."

Aline nodded, obviously glad that she didn't have to give a history lesson. Jack and Gwen, on the other hand, faced Ianto with a frown of surprise.

"The wonders of the Internet," Ianto explained with a shrug.

"Right. All the same…" Gwen said, disregarding the matter, "How is it possible no one's noticed anything in all these centuries? With so many beheaded people found lying about, you'd expect reports about serial killers by the hundreds!"

"We've learnt to hide and appreciate the privacy of abandoned warehouses and buildings, as well as the importance of giving the body a proper burial and laying low for long periods of time," Aline said, shrugging. "The last thing any of us needs as another witch hunt."

"Another?" Gwen echoed.

"Two words: French Revolution." Aline's index finger crossed her neck in a universal sign of 'Being offed.'

"Oh." Gwen's hand reached for her neck without realising.

"Yeah."

"Except now they're onto you again," Jack pointed out.

"It looks like it," Aline agreed. In the next moment, however, she frowned. "Although… something doesn't add up."

"And that is?" Jack asked.

"If Summers was really after me to kill me, he had his chance the night he had Robert killed," Aline said. "Nevertheless, he let me go."

"Maybe he got cold feet?" Gwen suggested.

"Or he was following orders," Jack said thoughtfully. "The question now is: who gave them?"

Just then, the sound of ringing filled the air, making all four people tense and exchange glances.

"Ianto?" Jack said.

Ianto nodded. After wiping his hands on his serviette, he dug out a gun out of his pocket and headed upstairs.

* * *

Another ring filled the air, and Ianto had to call out, "Be right with you!" as he went up stairs two by two. He soon found himself in the office of the Tourist Information shop, which was already bathed with the grey cloak of pre-dawn. He could even see the dark silhouette of a man outside the door as the meagre light shone through the glass window.

Ianto clenched his jaw, and he felt the gun in his fingers, trying to assure himself that he was in control of the situation. If it was just an innocent passer-by, then he would be able to see them on their way. If not though… well, he was ready to get nasty. With that thought in mind, he slowly opened the door.

Even with a raincoat covering his body, Ianto could tell that the man standing at the threshold was quite robust and without many unwelcome pounds taking a toll on his stomach, like most people of his age – the crow's feet and his silver hair and beard clearly indicated that he was close to sixty. However, the proud posture of the body, despite the cane that supported it, and the piercing gaze of brown eyes indicated that he was certainly no tourist.

"Can I help you?" Ianto said, deciding to be polite. He still kept the gun in hand, concealing it behind the door.

"Yes, you can," the man said, and he pushed the back of his sleeve to reveal the Aries-like symbol on his wrist. "My name is Joe Dawson, and I want to talk to your superior. Now."

_TBC..._


	9. Watchers

Jack, Gwen and Aline were still in the Boardroom when they heard the sound of footsteps – Ianto's no doubt – coming in their direction. However, they sprang on their feet in alarm the moment that they realised that Ianto wasn't alone. A second set of footsteps, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of a stick knocking on the ground, reached their ears quite clearly, and none of them were sure what to make of it. That is, until Ianto himself appeared, along with an elderly man who walked with the aid of his cane.

"Ianto…" Jack started.

"Your guy did only what I asked him to do," the newcomer said, his American accent quite distinct. He looked at Jack with quite the scrutiny. "Are you in charge here?"

"Captain Jack Harkness," Jack replied, deeming that that was answer enough. "And you are?"

"Joe Dawson," the man said. "And, trust me, I didn't come here to fight."

"Then why are you here exactly?" Jack asked.

"Jack…" Ianto said softly, pointing at the inside of his wrist.

Jack picked up what Ianto was trying to tell him. He faced Joe Dawson again, regarding him closely. Aline, on the other hand, grabbed her sword and set herself in a defensive position, watching the man's every move like a hawk.

Dawson noticed the motion, and he held up a hand in a sign of peace. "You don't need that," he said, looking at Aline with a calm expression.

"Give me a good reason," she snarled.

"Aline, please," Gwen said quietly, reaching for the immortal woman's hands to lower them. The last thing they needed was bloodshed.

"I've been watching you ever since you arrived at that flat. I saw these three put you in a body bag, and then drive you away in their SUV, and I had to call a taxi so I would be able to follow them here," Dawson replied. "If anyone else was involved, you bet your ass I would have called for backup instead of going through all that on my own."

"You still haven't stated your business, Mr. Dawson," Jack said, raising an eyebrow.

"Right," Dawson answered. "Believe it or not, I'm here to even the battlefield."

"On whose favour, I wonder," Aline said dryly.

"I'm not your real enemy, Ariste. I just want you to hear me out."

Aline got so taken aback that she stared at the man with eyes wide open.

Jack cocked his head, facing Aline. "Another alias?"

"No," Aline said softly. "It's my first name. My original name. But…" She looked back at Dawson. "No mortal was supposed to know that."

"_We _do. It's our job to know," Dawson answered. "It has been ever since Ammaletu, the Accadian, saw Gilgamesh coming back to life."

"Hold on," Gwen said. "_The _Gilgamesh? The one in the history books?"

"I don't think there's another," Dawson replied.

"Frankly, I'm more interested in what this job involves," Jack said. "Are you part of the government?"

"No," Dawson said. "We're a society of men and women who observe and record the Game. From the moment an Immortal experiences his First Death, we keep track of that Immortal for the rest of their existence."

"Until they lose their head," Jack pointed out.

"Bingo," Dawson said.

"I met one of you," Ianto said in that moment. "About three years ago, in a facility known as Torchwood One."

"Then an Immortal must have been working there, too," Dawson said thoughtfully.

Ianto frowned. "Except the man I'm talking about died in… the line of duty." It was painfully obvious that he didn't want to voice what had really happened on that day.

"We're good at our jobs but, for good or for bad, we aren't as indestructible as our charges," Dawson said. "That's why there's another watcher on the ready to pick up the trail once more."

"But why all this in the first place?" Gwen asked. "What are you trying to find?"

"The winner of the Game," Dawson answered. "Call it curiosity, if you like, or a desire to make sure that all the Immortals that walked the earth at some point in History will be remembered."

"Very noble, I'm sure," Aline stated. Though her tone was sarcastic and she was still wary, she had put aside her sword for now – a good sign. "Except it also means you can sneak up on us and finish us off yourselves."

"And that's where all of you have it wrong," Dawson said. "Watchers aren't meant to interfere in the Game."

Aline looked at him quite pointedly.

"We're not," Dawson insisted. "Unfortunately, there have been exceptions to the rule," he added with a sigh.

"I noticed," the immortal woman said darkly.

"So what you're saying is that some members of your society went rogue," Jack said, crossing his arms.

"There was a group of Watchers that hunted down and killed Immortals more than ten years ago," Dawson admitted. "But it's nothing like that in this case."

"Meaning?" Aline asked.

Dawson shifted on his legs. "Is it possible I can sit down?" he asked. "Standing upright isn't all that comfortable for me."

Jack nodded his consent and then signalled to Ianto and Gwen that they could sit down, too. From the sound of things, this Joe Dawson had quite the story to tell.

Aline looked at each and everyone, a calculating expression on her features as she weighed her options. In the end, however, she sat down as well, keeping her sword within reach. She was willing to listen, but not to trust just yet.

"Good. Now…" Joe faced the immortal woman. "You were married to this Robert Adler guy, is that right?"

Aline nodded.

"And your husband was working in a case concerning the Russian Mafia."

"He did, although he wouldn't tell me much else," Aline said.

"Then you don't know about a certain Konstantin Pedachenko."

Aline frowned and shook her head.

"Allow me," Ianto said, looking in his PDA. "Konstantin Pedachenko. Owner of several clubs of dubious infamy and who, according to the police, arranges hits for the Mafia. He's also a suspect for trafficking women for… illegitimate purposes."

Aline and Dawson looked at Ianto curiously.

"We prefer to do our homework while working on a case," Jack answered to their look, patting Ianto on the shoulder.

"Still, if Robert Adler's death was the Russian Mafia's doing, where does Summers fit into all this?" Gwen asked.

"And that's where it gets complicated," Dawson said wryly. "Konstantin Pedachenko is an Immortal. 'Born' in the Russian steppes more than a thousand years ago."

"You keep track of him too?" Aline asked.

Dawson nodded. "We've managed to keep a better eye on him than all the undercover agents combined. It was while following him, however, that we discovered the disturbing truth."

"Which is?"

"Pedachenko found out about the Watchers. From what I gather, he had one of his men follow you and Adler and he was informed Summers was doing the same thing."

"He didn't seem to mind," Jack pointed out.

"No, he didn't. In fact, he used it to his advantage," Dawson said. "Pedachenko's Watcher said that he's seen the two of them meet more than once… and always seeming to reach to some kind of an agreement."

"He bribed Summers?" Gwen asked.

"Bribed, threatened… Whatever he did, it did its job," Dawson said, and he looked back at Aline. "Summers knew your every move; he also knew your husband's in consequence. He could get close enough, and strike without you sensing the danger."

"So he set the Weevil lose," Aline said. "Makes me wonder how he knew about those."

"Weevils aren't exactly discreet," Jack pointed out. "When he stumbled upon one, he must have thought they made the perfect weapon. The police would be baffled, and the killing would never be pointed to him or Pedachenko."

"And he used the shock collar to make sure that the Weevil didn't misbehave until it was time to attack," Aline said thoughtfully. "Somebody shot me when I tried to save Robert. It must have been Summers."

"So why didn't he kill you?" Gwen asked. "If he knew how to finish you off, wouldn't it have made sense to do just that?"

Dawson, however, shook his head. "He would have to deal with Pedachenko's temper next."

"Indeed. Why waste a Quickening, after all?" Aline said wryly. She got back on her feet, picking up her sword. "Well, if it's a battle this Immortal wants, I'll give him a damn good one. Where can I find him?"

"I can't tell you," Dawson said.

Aline cast the Watcher a dark look. "You said everything else and you can't tell me that?"

"'Fraid so," Dawson said. "I'm not an active Watcher anymore. The only reason that I got to find out even that much was because I pulled several very long strings."

Aline blinked. "Wait… So you're basically telling me that you, a _retired _Watcher, came here to warn me about this other Immortal, even if you're not supposed to interfere in any way to the Game?"

"That about sums it up," Dawson said.

Aline blinked again, more than just a little confused. "Why?"

The Torchwood members looked at Dawson, the same question reflected in their eyes.

The former Watcher smiled. "We have a common acquaintance, whom I owed a favour," he said. "One who still likes to check up on you from time to time – making sure you're all right."

Aline blinked in surprise, but then her expression changed into that of disbelief. "_He _doesn't trust anybody."

"Not with his life," Dawson agreed. "But he could trust me with this."

Aline nodded her understanding, accepting the answer.

"Excuse me, who are we talking about?" Gwen asked curiously.

"My mentor," Aline explained. "He found me shortly after my First Death. I didn't know anything about what I was or what I was meant to do, so he took it upon himself to teach me everything." She looked at Jack, smiling slightly. "I talked to you about him, although I always referred to him as my father – because, in a way, he was."

Jack made a small, silent 'Oh'. "So you can make an exception to the rules."

"Don't get me wrong, we might end up taking each other's heads in the long run," Aline said. "For the time being, though, we can consider each other a friend." She faced Dawson. "But if he sent you here to warn me, it means the situation is worse than I thought."

"It very likely is," Dawson said. "From what I found out, Konstantin Pedachenko is just an alias. You know this Immortal by another name."

"What is it?"

"Kashchei."

As the name sank in, Aline all but collapsed on the chair. "Damn it."

"Guess that's not a pleasant acquaintance," Jack said.

"Not in he least," Aline said. "Most Immortals prefer to earn their Quickening with a fight. It can be with blades, spears, even with butcher knives; it doesn't matter how, as long as it _is_ a fight. Kashchei is the exception to that rule."

"In what way?" Gwen asked.

"He aims newly born Immortal women," Aline said. "Female Immortals who can't fend for themselves because they don't know how. He first earns their trust, promises to look after them, and then cuts off their head when their guard is down."

Jack understood. "He doesn't try to kill one powerful Immortal to gain the strength he needs, but many weaker ones. It's easier."

"Good God… And you came across him?" Gwen asked, facing Aline.

"Yeah. Five hundred years ago, in Siberia. He was quite determined to kill me too, sensing my power, but I turned out to be a better opponent," the Immortal woman said, reliving the memory in her mind's eye. "In the end, we both ended up in a river nearby and discovered for ourselves that death from hypothermia isn't pleasant in the least."

"It definitely isn't," Jack said, wincing knowingly. "Is that how he lost track of you?"

"The river carried me far away from him and into safety," Aline said. "But, apparently, now he wants to finish the job."

"And, this time, I doubt he'll underestimate you," Dawson said grimly.

Aline pursed her lips momentarily, and then stood up her sword in hand. "I reek of dried blood; I had better have a shower," she declared, already walking towards the exit. "No need, I know the way," she added as she saw Jack ready to get up; and, moments later, she was gone.

Jack let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, let's loosen up the tension. Mr. Dawson, you said this Watcher of yours saw Pedachenko and Summers converse?"

"Took pictures, too," Dawson said, patting his pocket.

"Okay. Gwen, call Andy and tell him that we have new evidence on the Adler case, and email him the photos Mr. Dawson will give you. Those should be enough to put the police on the right track."

Gwen nodded her understanding. "Mr. Dawson, this way please," she said, getting back on her feet and making the phone call.

"Should I keep an eye on the phone lines and the CCTV?" Ianto asked, looking at Jack.

"No, I'll do it," Jack said. "You keep an eye on Aline. The last thing we need is her doing anything rash."

Ianto frowned. "You'll think she'll try to meet Pedachenko head on?"

"She just went to have a shower. One thing I do know about Spartans is that they always made sure they looked their best before facing death."

"Oh."

"Yup. Can't say they had the wrong idea, really."

With that, the former Time-agent walked out of the Boardroom as well, leaving Ianto alone with his thoughts.

* * *

The loud music hardly bothered the man who was sitting in the VIP spot. He simply let his cold silver-grey gaze drift downwards to the lower level of his club, and he looked at the young men and women who seemed to be enjoying themselves. Indeed, there was dancing; couples who liked the privacy that the dark corners of the club provided as a chance to unabashedly make out; even barely-clad girls on stage, offering quite the sight to everyone who had gathered around. It wouldn't be long before several of those respectable clients requested a certain privileged treatment, and he would make sure that the girls of his choice would give it… whether they liked it or not.

"Mr. Pedachenko," a large, muscled man said close to his ear so he would be heard. "A Mr. Summers wishes to speak with you."

_Summers, eh?_ Pedachenko thought, his grip on his glass of vodka tightening. Good. He had meant to discuss a certain matter with him. "Send him in."

The bouncer nodded and signalled to a colleague of his at the entrance. Pedachenko turned on his seat and took another sip of his drink, waiting patiently. Finally, the man himself appeared, and he was more than just a little agitated. He kept wringing his hands, while his eyes drifted in every possible direction as if he was afraid someone would attack him at any minute. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow, and he had to wipe himself with a handkerchief.

"Relax. One would think that the club isn't to your tastes," Pedachenko said, his English perfect and his accent practically non-existent.

"I didn't come here for pleasure, as you very well know, Mr. Pedachenko," Summers said.

"More money, then?" Pedachenko said, smirking. "I've already given you what we had agreed on, and the barrister is dead."

"Aline Adler came to my flat," Summers said agitatedly. "I saw them carrying her out of there, shot down."

"And the problem is?" Nabukoff said, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you mean?" Summers all but screamed. "She knows! I don't know how, but she does! She's after me!"

"And?"

"Don't pretend you don't understand!" Summers cried. "A bullet won't stop her! Sooner or later, she _will _find me, and she'll want to know who put me into this situation before ending my life!"

"I take it you don't want her to kill you?"

"Of course not! Now will you help me?"

Pedachenko smiled cruelly. "I'm always happy to be of service." Before Summers could react, the Immortal had whipped out a gun, already equipped with a silencer, and shot two bullets through the Watcher's heart. Summers fell in a heap on the floor, quite dead, without anyone seeing anything. That is, except for the bouncer, who didn't so much as bat an eyelash at the scene that had unfolded before his eyes.

"Talesnik, get rid of him," Pedachenko said. "But make sure that the body is discovered."

Talesnik nodded and hauled the body over his shoulder as if it were a sack of potatoes, but Pedachenko didn't bother himselfwith the matter any further. He simply looked back at the stage and smiled.

Everything was going according to plan.

_TBC..._


	10. The Rules Of The Game

The sound of running water reached Ianto's ears quite clearly as the young man walked down to the lower levels of the Hub; Aline was still having that shower, apparently. That much was obvious even as he finally entered the small room and saw only her blood-stained clothes, dropped carelessly in a bundle outside the door of the shower room so that they would be disposed of at first chance. Deciding to check on her, he knocked on the door in a polite manner.

"Yes?" her voice sounded from inside.

"How's the water?" Ianto asked.

"Just fine," she replied. "Did you need something?"

"Not really. Just wanted to let you know that I've brought you some fresh clothes."

"Okay. Thanks." The pitter-patter of the water ceased altogether, and Ianto heard the characteristic sound of the glass screen sliding open as Aline stepped out. Considering this as his cue to leave and give her some privacy, he put the fresh clothes neatly on a chair nearby, and then sat on his heels to pick up the dirty ones. He could burn them later at night…

The door opening cut into Ianto's train of thought, and he found himself staring at a pair of fine, strong and quite bare legs. He looked up before he could help it, and there was the woman herself, a grey towel wrapped around her torso as if it were a mini-dress. Her hair clung onto her face and neck, rivulets of water trickling down her smooth skin and finding their way down her chest, where they were absorbed by the soft cotton fabric.

"I, um… meant to get rid of them," he said, standing up at once, regaining control of the situation. He hated being caught by surprise, and he would certainly not have her think that she did just that.

She didn't reply, at least not in words. She simply nodded and then padded up to the chair to pick up the clothes. She raised an eyebrow, and then she looked back at Ianto. "Did you pick them?"

"Yeah, I did," Ianto said, frowning a bit. "Do I have your size wrong?"

"No, and that's the interesting part," she said. "You even found the right size of trousers."

"You make it sound as if I did something remarkable," Ianto said, smiling modestly.

"You did, considering how long it takes me to find a pair that its cuffs don't sweep the floor whenever I wear them," she said, half-teasing, half-serious.

"What can I say, it's a gift," Ianto grinned, amused. Yes, he had noticed that her legs were rather short in proportion to the rest of her body. On the other hand, however, her torso was quite long, longer than, say Lisa's or Gwen's and quite broader as well. It didn't make her body unattractive, by any means. She was simply a bit sturdier in build, an advantage that came in handy since she needed all the physical strength she could get while fighting. Ianto supposed that that was also one of the reasons she had survived for so long.

"Can you…?" Aline asked in that moment, cutting into Ianto's thoughts for a second time since they started talking.

"Can I what?" Ianto asked, confused.

Aline raised an eyebrow, regarding him as if the answer was obvious, and it finally occurred to the young man.

"Oh, right. Sorry," he said, turning his back to her so that she could change.

"No problem," She said, and Ianto heard the soft sound of the towel falling on the floor. He supposed he could just as well pick up the dirty clothes and go, but the truth of the matter was that he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet.

"Ariste…" He stopped himself, the name sounding strange and a bit of a tongue-twister in his mouth. "Can I just call you Aline?" he asked with a soft sigh.

"Whatever works for you," she replied, her tone unconcerned.

"Okay." Ianto supposed that that made sense. "I couldn't help but feel curious, so I checked the name Kashchei on the Internet."

Ianto was sure that that had her raise her eyebrow in her usual inquisitive manner. "And?"

"He was quite well-known," Ianto said. "Slavic peoples always referred to him as Kashchei the Immortal or the Deathless, a monster that menaced young women. Of course, he was also described as an ugly, senile man, which I doubt is true. It still sets one thinking, though."

"We _are_ part of this world and its history, Ianto Jones. You just have to know where to look," Aline replied. "The strangest tales often have a core of truth in them."

Ianto nodded a bit, seeing Aline's point. As he learned more about Immortals, however, a thought kept forming on the back of his mind, making him curious and… dare he say it? Even hopeful.

"Done," Aline's voice sounded in that moment, and Ianto looked back at her. She rewarded him with a small, almost shy smile, and she made a slow turn around herself, exhibiting herself. "How do I look?"

"Pretty," Ianto answered truthfully. The blue jeans and light-pink T-shirt were spot on, flattering her figure nicely, and the dark blue leather jacket that was over her shoulder and silver-grey trainers made a good finishing touch. She had even strapped on her baldric, the sword resting against her side without preventing her movements.

She accepted the compliment with a graceful bow of her head, and she continued drying her hair, ridding herself of the last remnants of the water. Ianto watched her for a few moments in silence, until he finally deemed he could just go ahead and say it.

"Aline… how can you tell Immortals from Mortals?"

She slowed her motions, shrugging a bit. "I feel it."

"Yes, but… what's it like?"

She put the towel down and ran a hand through her hair as if combing it, although she was clearly in thought. "It's hard to explain. It's like a sharp, brief headache. It was pretty bad when I was new to the Game, but I got used to it."

"Does it work just for you?" Ianto asked curiously.

"No, all Immortals feel it in the presence of another one," she explained. "Well, I also know of one who just sneezes, but he's the exception," she added with a smile.

"What about would-be Immortals?"

"Only Immortals can feel them," she answered, eyes regarding Ianto closely. "What's in your mind?"

Ianto decided that it was now or never. He took a deep breath, and then took the proverbial deep plunge.

"You said that there are many people who can be Immortals, except they don't know it yet."

She cocked her head. "Are you asking me if you're one?"

"Am I?" The question slipped out before he could help it, nervousness interlacing it.

She shook her head and sealed the finality of it all with one word. "Sorry."

He nodded and lowered his head in disappointment. In all honesty, he should have expected it, really. He had just… wanted…

"You're better off," she said, putting her hands in her pockets, a small, wan smile on her lips. "The Game dictates you to be constantly on the run, always looking over your shoulder and ready to fight for your life. And all that is left for you to do is keep saying goodbye and carrying on alone on a path that you didn't really choose to take but for mere fate or bad luck – whatever you want to call it."

"It wouldn't have to be alone…" Ianto's voice trailed off as soon as he realised what he had just said, and he winced. Now that was something that he hadn't intended to share.

Aline raised an eyebrow, eyes reflecting her puzzlement. That is, until a silent 'oh' of understanding formed on her lips and her gaze softened.

Ianto clenched his fists and jaw. The last thing he wanted was to be pitied. He already had enough of that from Gwen, thank you very much!

"I should get rid of these," he stated stiffly, nodding in the direction of the old, bloodstained clothes. "I'll let you know if there's any news about Pedachenko."

"Ianto…"

"You should rest." He turned on his heel, grabbing the clothes and heading towards the exit. The least he could do was save whatever dignity he had left and get out.

Her hand resting on his arm in a gentle grip stopped him on his tracks.

"It's not that easy for us, either," she said softly. "In theory, Immortals can afford an eternity to find what they're looking for; whereas mortals don't even have time to taste life before they reach the end of… the line. Why share a life with someone you know can never grow wise and old with you?"

"What about you and Robert Adler?" Ianto asked in a quiet tone.

"You think I didn't try to make him understand what he was getting himself into?" She shook her head. "I tried, repeatedly for that matter. He said he didn't care. He never would."

"Even if he couldn't be the only one for you?" A new desire to understand overwhelmed Ianto, and his eyes never left hers.

She snorted slightly. "I believe my exact words were, 'Even if this relationship will feel like a mere one-night stand to me?'."

"What did he say?"

She briefly lowered her voice, her inflection imitating Robert's to a tee. "'In that case, I had better make it the best one-night stand in your life.'" A smile flickered on her lips. "And then he had to ruin it by saying that, hell, not everyone could be married to a bombshell of a wife in their nineties without paying her, but that was Robert for you… joking about everything."

"You miss him," Ianto said, seeing through her words.

She nodded.

"Having regrets?"

"Never. I loved him," she replied without hesitation. "Do you believe in coincidences, Ianto?"

Ianto didn't take long to think about it. "No."

"Good. Neither do I," she said. "In fact, I think we met so you could hear my story and gain a lesson from it. Use it wisely."

"But what lesson is it?" the man asked, frowning.

She smiled. "Whatever you want it to be."

Ianto cocked his head. "What do you…?"

He wanted to say 'mean', but Jack's voice suddenly sounded from the top of the stairs.

"Ianto! Is Aline with you?"

"Yeah!" Ianto called back.

"You two had better get up here then. We've got new info."

"Is it about Kashchei?" Aline asked.

"Just get up here."

She rolled her eyes gently. "Is he always that bossy nowadays?" she asked Ianto in a soft tone.

"He was bossier last week," Ianto stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"In or out of the bedroom?"

"Out," Ianto replied without thinking.

"Well, that's no fun."

"Not particularly," he agreed.

They both froze, the words sinking in. They blinked at each other for a few moments, and then they climbed up the stairs in giggling fits that they could barely control. They only managed to sober up when they joined Jack and Joe at the upper level, both their faces the epitome of innocence.

Jack frowned, obviously suspecting that there was something off with the two of them even if he couldn't really place it, but then shook his head in a dismissive manner.

"Dawson got a call from the Watcher. He spotted Summers entering a club that belongs to Pedachenko."

"He went to find his employer. Surprise surprise," Aline said in a dry tone.

"And here's another non-surprise," Joe said. "A quarter of an hour later, Mike saw two of Pedachenko's men carry what looked like a drunken man outside the club and then drop him quite unceremoniously into a van."

"Summers?" Aline said.

"Maybe. Mike couldn't tell."

"Did he get any pictures?" Ianto asked.

"A couple, but not all that clear."

"Did he use a digital camera?"

"I think so."

"Call him back," Ianto said. "If he sends them in the e-mail address I'll give him, I'll know what to do."

"E-mails, huh?" Joe shook his head. "Things are definitely easier now than ten years ago. But I still prefer these," with that, he knocked one of his prosthetic legs with his cane, "over gadgets any day. Call it fun of the chase."

"Maybe next time," Ianto said with a small smile, and he beckoned Joe to follow him. Jack, however, asked Aline to stay put, since he wanted to discuss something important with her.

"What is it?" she asked, regarding him curiously.

His answer came in the form of a passport. "I figured you'd want to leave the country as soon as this is over, so I took the liberty of dealing with some of the paperwork for you. I hope you like the name Alyson."

"I've never been an Alyson before; I might as well," Aline said, taking the passport and examining it in thought. "You didn't have to, Jack."

"Yeah, I did," Jack replied. "I hear Paris is pretty nice at this time of year."

"It will definitely be different from the last time I was there," she said, chuckling. "I'll need to brush up my French, too."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll manage without it. In Paris, body language is everything," Jack said with a grin.

"And I suppose you know all the moves?" Aline asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Definitely," Jack answered, winking.

She chuckled softly and shook her head. "You're incorrigible."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Jack declared, the grin still brightening his features, and he patted her shoulder. "Come on, let's check on Ianto and Dawson."

"No need," Ianto said, walking up to them, Joe following close at his heels. "I managed to clear the pictures the Watcher sent me, and even enhanced them to get a better look on a face." He handed Jack the printed picture, and the former time-agent gave it a quick once over. Aline leaned close to have a look at the picture as well, and she looked back at Joe.

"Is it him?"

"Yup. It's Summers alright," Joe answered.

"What time was it then?" Jack asked with a frown.

Joe checked his watch. "Add the time it took us to confirm Summers' identity… About forty minutes, give or take."

"Then we might have some time yet," Jack declared. "Any idea where Gwen is?"

"E-mailing Dawson's photos to Andy," Ianto said.

"Get her and then prepare the SUV," Jack ordered. "Dawson, did that watcher of yours spot the license plate of that van?"

"Got it right here," Joe said, holding up a piece of paper.

"You're really good at your jobs," Jack declared, taking the piece of paper in his hands.

"Why do you need that?" Aline asked.

"Summers was either executed or is going to be," Jack explained, typing swiftly on the computer. "Either way, if we find the van and Pedachenko's men, we can send the info to the police and actually catch them in the act of doing their boss' dirty work."

"The police might not make it on time," Aline said.

"Maybe not. But _we _will. And then Pedachenko is as good as arrested," Jack said.

"Until he kills himself and he's out again," she pointed out.

"And you'll be long gone by then."

Aline's eyes widened as she stared at him incredulously. "The passport…" she murmured in realisation, and then grabbed Jack by the arm so he would face her. "You want me out of here?" she snarled.

"In one word, yes," Jack said, hardly fazed.

"Why?"

"Kashchei isn't an alien, but he's still a danger to the human race. That makes him Torchwood's problem."

"No, _my _problem," Aline said.

"You tried to deal with him before. Didn't work."

"That was five hundred years ago!"

"And we both know how recent that is to us."

Aline's face became red with fury. "I will not have you fight my battles!" she snapped.

"Torchwood's battles," Jack said calmly.

"I'm Torchwood too, remember?"

"You died."

"I'm very much alive now, as you can see."

"You can still die."

"So can you!"

"No, I can't."

She blinked, her surprise making her anger vanish into thin air. "You can't?"

Jack nodded.

"Not even…?" She moved her index finger across her neck.

"No."

"I see," she said, sighing softly. "Fine. You can have a shot at him… if I fail."

"Aline, no."

"Yes," she said firmly. She looked back at him, unafraid. "I am what I am, doing what I was trained to do. I have been for the last 3,000 years. You can't ask me to cheat!"

"This is not a game!" Jack pointed out exasperatedly.

"Yes, it is! A dangerous and deadly one, but a game nonetheless," she said. She placed a hand in his, her tone becoming calmer and softer. "Please, try to understand. I fought countless times, putting my immortality to the test against all kinds of adversaries, constantly proving my worth as a warrior, and I did so without backing out. I won't start now, and certainly not for someone like Kashchei. I won't give him that kind of satisfaction."

Jack glared at her, his jaw set and a hard look in his eyes, something that had Ianto sigh inwardly. Jack hated it when his decisions were questioned, especially in such a way. However, it was also a kind of thinking that the former time-agent could relate to: give your opponent hell, even when it looks like they're overcoming you.

"Fine. We'll do things your way," he conceded.

She finally relaxed once more. "Thank you."

"Thank me when this is actually over," Jack said, turning on his heel and walking towards the SUV. "Now come on, it's time we had a talk with Pedachenko's goons. Or do you want to have a go with them as well?" He looked over his shoulder, regarding Aline with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, you can have them. I'm sure you'll have fun," Aline replied, a smirk forming on her lips as she followed him.

"Thanks," Jack said with a small, amused huff.

Ianto watched them go, and a sigh flowed out of his lips. "And to think I used to believe one immortal was bad enough," he said under his breath, setting off after them.

"Welcome to the perks of _my _job," Joe said deadpanned, following close behind.

_TBC…_


	11. SOCA

"Ianto, are they still driving?" Gwen asked, regarding the young Welshman from the back seat.

"Yup," he answered, his eyes never leaving the GPS tracking device.

"Looks like they decided to take us on a tour around Cardiff," Joe pointed out wryly. He was sitting on the co-driver's seat, as he needed the extra space due to the prosthetic legs.

"Classic criminal tactic," Jack said, driving and keeping his eyes focused. "They want to make to make sure anyone who's following loses track of them."

"Or gets nauseous, whatever works first," Aline said in a dry tone.

Gwen couldn't have agreed more to that, and she dearly hoped that the drivers of the van would decide to stop this hide and seek game before she emptied the contents of their stomach all over the SUV floor. Next time, she would definitely ask Ianto for one of his dramamine pills.

"Turn left," Ianto instructed softly, addressing Jack.

Jack nodded, practically taking the turn at full-throttle. And he certainly wouldn't have intended to step on the brakes if Ianto hadn't suddenly declared, "Red light!" Jack stopped the car at once, sighed, and then waited for the green light as patiently as possible.

"Have you ever noticed that there's no such thing as traffic lights during car chases in movies?" he said all but out of the blue. "We should find out how they do it."

"Or we could find ways of our own," Ianto said in a matter of fact tone. "What was the name of that agent you happen to know again?"

"Or you could start by paying attention when the light changes," Joe said. Indeed, the traffic light was green once more, and the driver behind them even decided to show his impatience by blowing his horn. Jack instantly changed gear, and the SUV was gliding through the streets once more in search of the van.

"Straight ahead," Ianto said, and he studied the stream of data for many long moments. "It looks like they've stopped manoeuvring."

"Finally," Gwen stated, more than just a little relieved.

"So where are they heading?" Aline asked.

"Don't quite know yet, but they're currently heading towards a park in the eastern suburbs of the city."

"One way to find out," Jack said, and he steered the car in the same direction. "Tell me when they come to a stop, Ianto."

"They've just come to one," Ianto replied. "You should be able to see the car in less than two minutes."

Sure enough, the park came within sight, so did the white van. Everyone in the SUV could see the vehicle pulled over at the side, but, more importantly, they could also see the two men who carried the third body towards a small cluster of trees.

"No police as of yet," Joe pointed out. Indeed, the only cars present in the area were the van and the SUV itself.

"I'll call Andy to see what the delay is," Gwen offered, taking out her mobile phone.

"That will take too long," Jack said. "Get ready to get out!"

Before anyone had the chance to ask Jack what he was talking about, the former time-agent put on the brakes and pulled over with a loud screech. That, however, caught the attention of the two men and, as soon as they saw the SUV stopping and its lights flashing blue, dropped the body and started running.

"Why do they always run away?" Ianto said with a long-suffering sigh.

"It's part of the good guy, bad guy routine," Jack said, climbing out. "Ianto, Gwen you're with me. Joe, Aline, check on Summers; we'll be right back."

None of the three Torchwood members bothered to see Aline and Joe's nod of 'okay'. They simply dashed forward, chasing after the two bouncers. Though the two men used the trees as cover, Jack had the advantage as he took aim and fired. One of the bouncers fell on the ground, clutching his leg in pain; it was easy for Gwen to put handcuffs around his wrists. Ianto, on the other hand, had to sprint harder in order to tackle the second man on the ground.

"Ianto!"

The bouncer kicked viciously at the younger man, making Ianto groan. Jack tried to take aim, but he couldn't get a clear shot with the two of them locked so fiercely in combat. He swallowed hard, torn between shooting and having faith that Ianto would turn out to be a better fighter. His hope turned to fright, however, when he saw the bouncer pulling a knife. He took aim once more, praying he wouldn't put his lover in danger.

Thankfully, he didn't have to. In the next moment, the bouncer jolted uncontrollably, as Ianto's taser did its work, knocking him out cold. Ianto stayed frozen, as if waiting to make sure that the bouncer wouldn't snap back into his killing mode, and then pushed him off of him.

"You okay?" Jack asked, releasing a breath he had been holding slowly.

"Yup. He just wasn't my type," Ianto replied, a small smile accompanying his words.

"Good thing _I _am," Jack said, mirroring Ianto's smile to a tee.

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, and the two men turned around. Aline was walking up to them, her expression meaning business.

"Pardon the intrusion," she said. "I just wanted to let you guys know that the police have arrived. Gwen and Joe are already with them, explaining matters to them."

"What about Summers?" Jack asked.

"Quite dead. Must have been for some time, judging by the bullet hole and the lack of blood on the ground," she said.

"He was done away with at the club then," Ianto said thoughtfully.

"Or the van," Jack said.

"Not all that much blood there either, according to forensics," she said. "The club seems more likely to me too."

"The police will get busy tonight," Jack said, tapping on his Bluetooth. "Gwen, is Andy with you?"

"No, he isn't here. Do you want me to call him?"

"It's fine. Just find anyone who's in charge and find out if anyone's been dispatched after Pedachenko."

"Right." With that, Gwen ended the transmission.

Jack tapped his Bluetooth once to close the communication frequencies as well, and then picked up the bouncer, placing him over his shoulders. "He won't be able to talk for some time yet. Let's see if his friend has anything to say to us."

Ianto smiled a bit. "I'll see if he's available," he stated, and he went ahead, his step brisk. It was a sight that made Jack smile as he watched the younger man go.

"Yes, he does have a nice bum."

"You can look, as long as you don't touch," Jack answered, winking in Aline's direction.

She chuckled softly. "Wouldn't dream of it. It's obvious what he wants."

Jack wasn't the type of man who could get easily embarrassed. This time, however, he was mortified to realise that he didn't know what to say to that. He coughed slightly, as if clearing his throat.

"Okay, uh…" He winced inwardly at his audible nervousness. "We really ought to join the others."

"Of course," she replied, walking beside him as they both headed back towards the police and the SUV. "You sure you don't need help with him?" she added, nodding in the bouncer's direction; Jack was still carrying him on the shoulders."

"Had to carry worse," he replied, managing a shrug in spite of his weight.

"Should I ask?"

"You _don't_ want to know."

Though she laughed softly, just as Jack had intended, he could see that she had become quite thoughtful about something. He frowned in mild concern and curiosity.

"Something wrong?"

"Just thinking about Summers," she said, pursing her lips. "Makes you wonder why did Kashchei kill him."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You'd rather you did it yourself?"

"No, not really," Aline replied with a small shake of her head. "Justice was served, even if not by my hand."

"So, the problem is…?" Jack prompted.

"The problem is that Kashchei used to be a lot better in getting rid of bodies," she said. "He would certainly make sure that the murder would never be connected to him. And yet now there are the bouncers, the van's itinerary recorded in the GPS system, the photos that show Summers' connection with him; Summers was even killed in one of Kashchei's clubs and it didn't look like an accident by far. This isn't just sloppy work."

Jack sighed. "And here I was, hoping it was just me, putting too much thought on things. Crimes were so much less complicated in the good old days."

"Maybe, but they were definitely no field trips either," Aline said, smiling weakly.

"So… Apparently, Kashchei has something else in mind," Jack said. "Any idea what it could be?"

She shrugged. "Not in the slightest. He must have a death wish if he thinks the Mob will forgive him after this though."

That made Jack stop on his tracks, realisation dawning on him. "Maybe he does."

Aline faced him, confused. "He does what?"

"Have a death wish," Jack said. "Gwen! Found the guy in charge yet?" he called out, seeing the woman walking up to them.

"He's over there," Gwen replied, pointing to a man in his late forties, seeming to be in a heated conversation with Ianto. "His name is David Clark, of the SOCA. He says he wants to take the men under his custody and we have no authority here."

"Bureaucracy at its finest," Jack muttered. He put down the knocked out bouncer on a stretcher nearby and he stalked over to the other two men. "Is there a problem, officer?" he asked in a tone that could be almost sweet but for the icy bite in it.

"You Jack Harkness?" Clark demanded in a growl.

"Last time I checked, yes."

"Well, call off your dog and back off," Clark said. "Torchwood has no place here."

"We were the ones who alerted the police department about the crime in progress, we were the ones who caught the two parties involved in it, and we were the ones who provided all the necessary proof that connects a certain Konstantin Pedachenko with Mafia-related crimes," Jack said. "If anything, Agent Clark, you owe us."

"And we'll make sure you'll get your medal and pat on the back," Clark replied. "Then, however, you'll have to answer to the director and explain why got involved in the first place, jeopardising an undercover investigation that took five years in setting up."

"Making an investigation of our own. And we did a much quicker job than you, I may add," Jack retorted. "Now, since we made the arrest first, we get to be the ones to make the questions first too."

"You don't know what you're dealing with," Clark said, glaring at Jack.

"Enlighten me, and I might make things easier for you," Jack said.

"An extortion?" Clark snorted.

"A proposition," Jack said. "You can either take it or leave it."

Clark huffed, nevertheless it was obvious he realised he didn't have all that many options left. He nodded his resignation.

"Fine. But we're talking in private."

Jack shrugged in a sign that he didn't mind, and the two men stepped away from the crowd of officers and policemen that were bustling about, sealing the crime scene.

"One of the two men you arrested isn't exactly with the Russian Mafia."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Yours?"

"MI5, actually," Clark answered. "We've been working with them for some time now."

"To get to Pedachenko?"

"Among others?"

"Well, first step's done," Jack said.

"Not quite," Clark said, heaving a sigh. "Talesnik, our guy, was approached a week ago. The ones on the top of the chain are willing to give him a promotion."

"So?" Jack asked.

"It's the position that belongs presently to Pedachenko."

Now that was quite the news. "Pedachenko rubbed someone the wrong way?"

"A lot of them. He's been embezzling money from his own employers for the last ten years, putting them into personal bank accounts in Zurich."

"And they've only just realised?"

"He was careful," Clark said. "He always put aside very small sums of money, small enough that they wouldn't be missed or that he could attribute to an extra expense or two. But after ten years of saving, the defalcation became more than just a little obvious."

"And now they want him out, but also make sure he doesn't talk to anyone," Jack concluded.

"You catch on fast," Clard said. "Talesnik was meant to off Pedachenko in a couple of days' time. MI5 would then fake Pedachenko's death, so we could place him under custody and question him."

"An interesting plan," Jack admitted.

"It was, until this whole Adler business and your own involvement," Clark pointed out moodily. "So you'd better hope that Pedachenko doesn't get wind of this before my men get him."

Jack, however, frowned in thought. "Or maybe that was exactly what Pedachenko had in mind all along."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean your men might get a surprise of their own," Jack said, hurrying towards his team, Aline and Joe. If his suspicions were correct, then they would have to act quickly.

* * *

Kashchei finished his business he had come to restroom for, then walked over to the sink and started washing his hands in a careful, almost diligent manner. He could still hear the faint thumping of the music from this spot, not bothering him in the slightest. He wasn't even alarmed when the beat was suddenly accompanied by loud voices and mixed cries of confusion and indignation. As far as he was concerned, the whole commotion was a grand orchestra, playing to introduce him, the grand virtuoso, so that he would hive his last fine performance before retiring. He smiled softly to himself, dried his hands with a towel and stepped outside.

"Agent Andrews, Serious Organised Crime Agency, don't move!" a thirty-year-old man said. Another agent, a taller and more strongly-built one, was offering back-up as both of them held Kashchei at gunpoint.

"Evening to you as well, officers," Kashchei said, smiling. "You're right on time."

"Don't talk!" Andrews snapped. "Just turn around and put your hands on the wall, where we can see them."

Kashchei shook his head. "Such anger. It won't do you any good," he commented, nevertheless complying with the agent's order.

"I'll keep it in mind. Now stay there," the agent said. Kashchei heard the clinking sound of metallic handcuffs, guessing that the agent was moving forward to place them on his wrists.

Ah, mortals… Predictable as always.

"I hope you won't struggle too much. It will only make things messier."

"I said, 'Don't'…!"

Andrews never had the chance to answer, for it was then that Kashchei spun around with the speed and deadliness of a viper, grabbing the agent by the wrist and twisting it forcefully. Andrews's cry of pain died in his throat as Kashchei broke his neck as if it were a mere twig, then caught the gun in mid-air as it feel from the dead man's fingers. The other agent fired, yet he only managed to graze Kashchei's cheek before falling on the floor, already dead and a crimson bullet-hole marking his forehead.

Kashchei allowed himself the luxury of a smirk, and he took off his shirt and tie. It would be a pity to waste such fine clothes on the dead, after all, so he took off Andrews' leather jacket and wore it. Once he had ruffled his hair as well, he had completed his casual look, so he could walk out without anyone stopping him. That is, except for a mobile phone that kept ringing persistently. Feeling curious, he dug out of the leather jacket the phone and finally answered it. He knew the music would cover any differences in his inflection and tone.

"Andrews."

"Clark here. Have you got Pedachenko?"

"He gave us the slip, sir."

"Damn it. Do you have access to his office?"

"Yes, sir."

"Try to find anything that we could use in court and have everyone in the staff questioned."

"Of course, sir."

"By the way, if Torchwood arrives first, make them understand that they have no further business here. The Adler case is as good as closed."

Now that had Kashchei quite intrigued. "Closed, sir?" he asked, acting surprised.

"Yes," Clark said. "Though the lucky bastard won't be attending any trial, we have enough evidence that point him as the murderer and on Pedachenko's payroll."

"That's great, sir."

"I'll be happy when Pedachenko is behind bars," Clark said. "Now see to your job."

"Of course, sir." And with that, Kashchei hung up the mobile phone and then walked into his private office in the lower levels of the club. No one entered there under any circumstances, since that was Kashchei's personal domain – the place where he kept his most trustworthy belonging.

He unstrapped his longsword from under his desk, swung it a couple of times to listen to the gentle swishing sound that declared its fine balance. Once he was satisfied, he dug out of his trouser pocket his own mobile and dialled a number.

"Fyetka…" he said, switching to his native tongue. "Find me everything you can about Torchwood." He had heard of those busybodies before, and he knew there was only reason they would have wanted to meddle in the case; they had found out. And, judging by the case they were handling, they had found out by _her_.

It looked like he would have to kill several birds with one stone.


	12. The Quickening

When Torchwood arrived at the club, the entire area appeared to be in disarray. Policemen and citizens were mingled in a confusing mix in the small street near the entrance, making access to it almost impossible. However, Jack could be quite the imposing figure, and Agent Clark was next to him, holding up his badge and establishing his own authority; so it wasn't long before everyone was inside the building, ready to assess the situation.

"Andy!" Gwen said, seeing the familiar face in the main room. "What happened? I had been trying to contact you for hours!"

"Right, sorry about that," Andy replied with a sheepish grin. "SOCA insisted we came and dealt with things here first."

"Finding Konstantin Pedachenko, you mean?" Jack asked, overhearing the conversation.

Andy nodded.

"There should be two SOCA agents with you," Clark pointed out with a frown.

"They were, but it's been some time since I last saw them," Andy answered.

"Something the matter?" Jack asked, regarding Clark with a raised eyebrow.

"I told them to find Pedachenko's office and anything useful in there," Clark said. "But that was before we even left the park."

Ianto cocked his head. "So they either lost their way, or…"

"… Or they found something else first," Jack concluded, and he faced Aline. "Anything on Pedachenko?"

She shook her head. "I can't sense him. He must have left."

Clark snorted. "I doubt we can depend on psychics for our investigation, Harkness."

Aline rolled her eyes. "That's a first; I'm usually called a witch," she muttered, and then turned on her heel, darting her gaze every which way to find something out of the ordinary.

Joe pursed his lips for a few moments, and then reached for his pocket. "I'd better make a call," he said to Jack, and he took a few steps away from the group as he reached for his mobile phone.

Andy, on the other hand, couldn't help but stare at the two new faces for many long moments – especially at Aline.

"Gwen? Is that the woman you were trying to find?" he asked in a soft tone.

"That would be her, yeah," Gwen answered in the same tone.

"So she's helping you out?" Andy certainly didn't expect that. "I thought you said she was dangerous."

"Not to us, Andy. You needn't worry."

It was then that another constable hurried up to them, clearly agitated. "Andy, you'd better call the paramedics here. I've found two men down; dead by the look of things."

Clark looked up at the news and instantly held up his badge. "Agent Clark. Where are these men?"

"Downstairs, at the restroom area," the constable replied.

"All right, thanks," Jack replied, already dashing downstairs with Ianto following closely behind. Clark and Gwen followed as well, and all four of them came across the disturbing sight. For the two men that were sprawled on the floor were indeed quite dead, their eyes wide-open and staring vacantly into the void. The younger one's neck was twisted at an odd angle, while the other one's blood and grey matter still smeared the wall.

"Bloody hell…" Clark breathed out, staring at the scene in disbelief.

"I take it they're your agents," Jack said.

Clark nodded. "What were they doing down here anyway? I told them to go into Pedachenko's office."

"Are you sure you talked to them?" Aline asked in that moment.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Clark demanded.

Aline pointed at one of the bodies. "His jacket and trousers are missing. They're also the most common places someone keep their mobile phone."

"And yet no mobile in sight," Jack said, looking at the floor.

Clark tensed at once. "That's ridiculous! Pedachenko wouldn't have-!"

"Answered the phone? Talked to you?" Aline said. "Yes, he would, if it meant you not suspecting anything or have a few laughs at your expense. I know _I _wouldn't pass up that kind of opportunity."

Clark groaned and swore under his breath.

"Let me guess. You said something that you shouldn't have," Jack said dryly.

"He knows SOCA is after him. That's bad enough," Clark said.

"I don't think that was a surprise," the time agent pointed out. "What else did you say?"

"I mentioned you, but that's about it," Clark replied defensively. "An alien-fighting organisation is hardly his concern, Harkness, I assure you."

"It is if you told him about the Adler case."

Clark's eyes widened ten-fold at that.

"I believe that's a 'Yes'," Ianto commented in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Which means he knows I'm with you," Aline noted, facing Jack.

Jack nodded.

"Hold on. Torchwood is still pretty much secret," Gwen reasoned. "How much could he find out about it?"

"A lot," Joe said, walking in in that very moment; he had obviously overheard the conversation. "I just got my usual tip. Pedachenko hailed a cab and told the driver to take him to the Plass. Does that place ring any bells?"

All the Torchwood members exchanged a glance, then Jack turned on his heel.

"Ianto, car keys."

Ianto handed them over at once, following Jack to the exit.

"No way. This is _still _SOCA's case, Harkness," Clark replied, already for his reaching for his mobile phone. He never got the chance to make his phone calls, however; a can landed with quite the force on his wrist and, before he had the chance to react, a second blow on the jaw had him collapse on the floor, quite unconscious.

Everyone stared in surprise at Clark as he lay sprawled on the floor, and then back at Joe, who was still towering over the agent. In the end, though, Jack simply shrugged in a clear 'Okay, that worked' gesture, and then briskly headed to the exit once more. Gwen and Ianto followed without hesitation, but Aline couldn't help but regard Joe with a curious look in her eyes.

"Observe and record, huh?" she said.

Joe shrugged. "He was becoming a pain in the ass."

"That he was," she agreed with a smirk, and they both headed upstairs as well.

* * *

Kashchei paid the driver and stepped out of the taxi, his eyes instantly taking in his surroundings. There was nothing all that notable about the particular area, apart from the square and the large fountain in the centre of it. There was certainly no building that seemed to house an official agency. Then again, his informant had also told him that Torchwood was meant to be a secret, at least to the public, and Kashchei believed it. Fyetka's info was always good.

So… where would a secret agency be? Not minding the cold breeze that forced sprays of water out of the fountain, wetting the pavement, Kashchei started looking out for everything that stood out as unusual. If he found even just one thing wrong with this picturesque scene before him, he would also find what he had been looking for.

Like, say, the rivulets of the water that sprayed the pavement disappearing close to a particular slab? Kaschei approached, curiosity filling him, and even stepped on the slab. He frowned as he felt a faint surge of energy surrounding him, very much like a barrier; and yet he couldn't see anything different around him.

Then again, Kashchei had learnt long ago that eyes couldn't be trusted. They were deceived far more easily than touch or smell. And right now, if he concentrated, he could hear a faint buzzing sound, while his body picked up the slight tremours under his feet and his nostrils picked up the scent of grease.

Interesting. He sat on his heels and he examined the crevices of the slabs, catching sight of a faint light underneath them. He looked around him, taking note that no one seemed to pay attention to what he was doing, and he boldly took out his sword. If his suspicions were correct, then all he had to do was put the blade through the cracks and… yes… there was indeed no soil under the slab. And he did recall that the only building that was close and yet isolated from all the other structures was a tourist centre. He put his sword away and walked up to the building, looking curiously at the window.

Hmm… No harm in finding out what was in there…

* * *

The SUV halted close to the Plass and all the passengers stepped out, looking in all directions for any sign of danger. The whole area seemed empty, though. Practically deserted.

"Okay, we're here," Jack said. "Does anyone see any Russian mobsters around?"

"Nope, No Russian sword-wielding berserks in sight either," Ianto deadpanned.

"Maybe we arrived before him?" Gwen suggested.

"No, he's here," Aline said, and everybody could see that her body was as tense as a bowstring. "The bad news is that, if I felt him, he must have sensed me as well. He'll be expecting us."

"My guess is he's already made himself at home," Joe remarked, looking in the direction of the tourist house. The door was ajar, its lock all but broken off and more than just several scrapes on the paint. It was obvious that something – or rather, someone – had managed to kick the door open and stepped inside.

"Well, at least we know where he is now," Ianto noted wryly.

"We can still get the upper hand on him," Jack said, holding up his gun. "Ianto, Gwen, Joe, you go through the main entrance. Aline and I will enter through the lift."

"And if we find him?" Gwen asked.

"You shoot to kill. Aline and I will handle the rest." With that, Jack headed with brisk steps towards the water tower, Aline walking right beside him.

Joe faced Gwen and Ianto, leaning on his cane. "After you," he said, nodding in the direction of the door.

Neither Ianto nor Gwen needed to be told twice. Taking out their own guns, they walked up to the tourist office and then ventured inside. The office itself looked empty and untouched; but the wide-open door on the wall that led to the Torchwood base told a different story entirely.

"Is it me, or does that scream trap?" Joe said thoughtfully.

"One way to find out," Ianto replied, and he stepped further inside. Nothing happened, and Gwen and Joe supposed that they could follow Ianto through the door. They had barely gone through, however, when all the lights went out to be replaced with the bright emergency ones, the door shutting behind them with a loud clank.

"Oh god… now that brings back painful memories…" Gwen said with a sigh, recalling the last time that the power in Torchwood went down.

"Painful to who?" Ianto asked in a neutral tone.

Gwen bit her lip, realising what she had just said. "Sorry."

"Personally, I'm more interested in finding whether there's an auxiliary power generator up here. We can't exactly shoot in the dark and hope we'll actually get something," Joe pointed out.

"There used to be a generator, but it's been out of order for ages," Ianto said. "If we could reach the main workstation, though, I might be able to bring the power back up again."

"Sounds like a plan," Joe said.

"Yeah, unless we come across unwanted trouble," Gwen said.

"Kashchei won't bother with us before he deals with Aline," Joe said.

"She's not talking about him," Ianto said.

Joe frowned. "Then who?"

"Them," Gwen said, pointing straight ahead. Five Weevils were prowling the main room, just a few feet away from them, seeming curious about the place they had found themselves in. They sniffed everything with many a grunt and a snarl, thankfully without realising that there were three pairs of human eyes watching them. Joe was especially shocked at the sight of them, and he had to bit his lip so as not to exclaim in horror.

"What the hell are those?" he breathed out slowly.

"Weevils that we had locked up," Ianto answered just as softly. "It was what Summers used to kill Robert Adler."

Joe nodded his understanding. "Ugly sons-of-bitches."

"Yup."

"_And_ dangerous, so you'd better not make any sudden moves," Gwen said quietly.

"I kinda figured that part out," Joe said dryly.

The five Weevils still looked around, which wouldn't have been quite as alarming if two of them didn't show a particular interest in the computers that were exposed on the desks.

"You realise of course what will happen if they break the computer down, don't you?" Gwen said with a wince.

Ianto pursed his lips, aware of what the woman told him.

"Any plan Bs?" Joe asked.

"Just one," the yong Welshman replied, and he stepped out of their hiding place, firing at the first Weevil. The other four roared their displeasure even as their companion collapsed on the ground, and then lunged towards Ianto, wishing to end the intruder's life. However, Joe and Gwen were already waiting for them, and they all but emptied their own weapons on them as they gunned them down as well. The three humans remained still for many long moments, half-expecting the Weevils to get back on their feet and attack once more. Nothing of the sort happened, thought – thankfully.

"I guess that ought to do it," Joe said, scrutinising the mess.

"Yeah," Ianto said softly, and then walked up to the computer to log into the system.

"Can you fix it?" Gwen asked, her eyes still on the Weevils; she didn't want to take any chances.

"I think so," Ianto said, typing his password. In the next moment, however, he banged his hand on the desk.

"Let me guess. Bad news," Joe said wryly.

"He's changed the passwords! I can't log in."

Gwen winced. "Can you somehow bypass them?"

"Yeah, but it will take time," Ianto replied, typing swiftly.

"How much time are we talking about?" Joe asked.

"Ten, maybe fifteen minutes."

"Are we to expect any more unpleasant surprises like these in the meantime?" Joes touched one of the Weevils with his cane, poking it.

"I should hope not, unless Janet decides to stop by."

"Janet?"

Gwen opened her mouth to speak, when a soft growl cut into the air and made everyone turn around. Another Weevil was standing on the doorway, breathing heavily and regarding all three men warily.

"I see," Joe said, and he instantly held up his gun once more.

Janet snarled at him warningly.

"Easy, easy… No sudden movements," Gwen breathed out, signalling at Joe to stay calm.

"Can you tell her the same?" Joe said wryly, his eyes never leaving Janet.

"Not really," Gwen replied honestly. "Any progress yet, Ianto?"

"Nearly there," Ianto answered.

"I'd still prefer we took care of her first," Joe said. "My fingers are kinda antsy right now."

"Hold on… I think I have just the thing…" Gwen said softly, and then she slowly reached for her pocket. Janet watched her closely, as if waiting for the moment the woman would slip up, but Gwen tried not to think about it. She simply took out the spray, along with a couple of deep breaths, and then went for the deep plunge.

"Joe, catch!" she cried, throwing the can in his direction.

Janet lunged at Joe at once, wishing to deal with the human, but Joe was faster as he sprayed her straight at her face. Janet snarled and staggered backwards, clearly in pain, which gave Gwen the opportunity to put handcuffs around her wrists. Janet, however, wouldn't go down without a fight, and she struggled against her bonds.

"You'd better get that power back up, Ianto," Gwen said, gritting her teeth as she tried to get the Weevil under control.

"Just a little bit more… There!" Ianto pressed the enter button, and the lights went back up once more.

"Finally," Gwen said softly, quite relieved. "Help me with Janet."

"Coming," Ianto replied, standing up.

"Let's hope the others have more luck than us," Joe said with a wry smile. "Do you often deal with this sort of thing?"

"Welcome to the perks of _my _job." And with that, Ianto reached for Janet, prodding her out.

* * *

Jack looked up with a smile as the corridor he and Aline walked in lit up once more. Apparently, Ianto had done his wonders again. He smiled in Aline's direction with the air of someone who had won a bet of sorts.

"I told you he'd fix it."

"The power cut was the least of our worries," Aline pointed out. "Then again, I didn't have to deal with that alien hunter again, so it's a bonus."

"History doesn't repeat itself, no matter what they say," Jack said. "So… any idea where to find Kashchei?"

"Not really. Knowing him, though, he'll try to take us by surprise."

"Even if you can sense him? I find that hard to believe," Jack said.

Aline sighed. "I can sense him; that doesn't mean I can tell his exact location or what his strategy will be."

Jack opened his mouth to retort, but he never got the chance; something a lot more important had caught his eyes as they entered a small room.

"Well, maybe you can't tell," he said, "But I can make a pretty good guess." Indeed, a cupboard was left wide-open, and Jack could see its contents were gone.

"What was in there?" Aline asked with a frown.

"Remember the alien hunter?"

Aline winced. "Don't tell me."

"Yup, both the dagger and crossbow are gone."

She gave him a dry look. "History doesn't repeat itself, huh?"

He shrugged. "Well, I've been known to be wrong before."

The words had barely escaped when a sharp twang made them both jump aside, practically gluing themselves on the floor – minutes before the arrow whistled over their heads.

"Guess we found him!" Aline said, instantly rolling to the safety of a desk nearby. Jack followed her example, just as another arrow flew into their direction, aimed at their heads. In the next moment, there was the sound of footsteps fading away in the distance, and Jack got out of his cover to fire at the retreating form. Though he practically emptied his Webley, he didn't manage to get him; Kashchei was too swift.

"That's not good," Aline noted.

"It certainly isn't. Ianto will have a fit if he realises somebody figured out how to use the crossbow before _he _did."

"I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to him," Aline pointed out, springing out of her makeshift cover as well. "Did you see where he went off to?"

"The morgue," Jack said. "Is it me or is there some irony here?"

"Depends whose head will roll." With that, Aline hurried down the same direction Kashchei left, sword in hand. Jack went after her, as fast as his legs could carry him, ready to fire if Kashchei tried anything against her person again. Though she had asked him to let her deal with the other immortal, Jack also knew the meaning of dirty fighting and he was aware that men like Kashchei were familiar with it as well. That was something that the former time-agent intended to rectify, making sure that Aline had her chance to that honourable duel she wanted.

Aline flew down the stairs and opened the door, only to be welcomed with the sharp twang of the crossbow being fired again. Her sword slashed through the air, her movement swift and flawless as she cut the incoming arrow in two; but she wasn't fast enough for the second one. She staggered back as the point embedded itself deep under her collarbone, tearing skin and muscles asunder. She fell on one knee, gritting her teeth.

"I'm disappointed, woman," Kashchei's voice sounded. "I expected you faster than that!"

As he realised that every second mattered, Jack entered the room, standing right next to Aline and aiming the man that stood in the very centre of the morgue. "You alright?" he asked her, though his eyes remained locked on Kashchei.

Kashchei spared a look of contempt in Jack's direction, clearly not impressed with his presence. "And how quaint; you've also asked an outsider's help as well. He may not be able to die, woman, but that doesn't make him one of us."

"Well, one thing's for sure. You're the same bastard as ever," Aline hissed. She pushed herself back on her feet, her teeth gritting at the effort, and reached for the part of the arrow that still stuck out, breaking it in two before holding up her sword. "It's over, Kashchei. You wanted your fight. Now come and get it."

Kashchei clicked his tongue. "You know the rules, woman. I'll fight one of you at a time."

"_I'll_ be more than enough," Aline replied, eyes alight with determination.

"You know something, woman? You're absolutely right."

Jack reacted the moment that he heard the crossbow being triggered, firing at once; but it was too late. The arrow buried itself deep into his chest, the force throwing him backwards and onto the floor. Aline's war cry reached his ears even as his body connected to the cold tiles, the pain turning out to be a lot worse than he had expected. Worse, with his history of deaths, he was sure that this time wouldn't be an exception either. He could already feel his blood draining away from him along with his life.

Even so, he didn't give up. Using whatever strength he had, he managed to prop himself on his elbow and hold up his gun once more, ready to use it against Kashchei.

It wasn't necessary, at least not yet. Aline had already charged, and now both Immortals were locked in fierce combat. Kashchei's longsword dove and slashed through the air, eager for the kill, yet Aline moved with the grace and ferocity of a feline, avoiding each blow. Jack was sure that he was watching two forces of nature clashing; one violent and raging like a wildfire and the other fluid like the waves in the ocean. Such was their power that sparks flew each time their blades met, electrifying the air and building up to the power surge that was to come.

A cry snapped Jack out of his thoughts, and he realised that Kashchei had pummelled the woman's injured side with the pommel of his sword. She staggered backwards, trying to avoid the next hit, but he kicked her instead, forcing her to double over… exposing her neck.

"Vengeance!" Kashchei roared in triumph, his sword already descending for the death blow.

There was a swift swoosh, and then Kashchei's severed hand fell lifeless on the floor, fingers still clenched around the handle. Aline's sword had cut it off as effortlessly as a knife cutting through butter.

"You talk too much," she said, weariness lacing her every word, and then buried her sword deep in the Immortal man's throat.

Jack looked away at once; the sickening sound of the head landing on the floor was enough to tell him that Kashchei was finally no more. When he looked back in Aline's direction, however, he was shocked to see a strange aura surrounding her, holding her still. There was the loud crackling of electricity, and blue veins of energy suddenly lashed out practically out of nowhere and seized her. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and then she was carried in the air by an invisible force very much like a ragdoll. Wave after wave of energy washed through her, making her spasm uncontrollably, until, with a final jolt, the invisible force dissipated into thin air and Aline crashed on the ground, face down and not moving.

"Aline?" Jack said softly.

There was no answer. Yet when Jack crawled up to her, not paying attention to the gruesome trail of blood he left behind, he saw that her eyes were open.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Not really," she murmured. "I'm bleeding to death."

Jack chuckled, even though it pained him. "Yeah, me too," he said. He managed a grin as the thought occurred to him. "Race you to resuscitation?"

Aline managed a grin back. "Last one buys the other breakfast."

"You're on," Jack declared, even as the blackness of death claimed him, somehow aware that Aline was already following him to their temporary dark oblivion.


	13. Epilogue

Gwen blinked her eyes open, and she was surprised when she realised she wasn't looking at the familiar ceiling of her bedroom, but the iron beams that supported the Torchwood base. She sat up, rubbing her eyes in a tired manner, and she tried to figure out what might have happened.

"Morning!" Ianto's voice sounded from close by. Gwen turned around, just as the man walked up to her with a smile on his lips and a cup of aromatic coffee in each hand. "That ought to wake you up properly."

"Thanks," she said, taking one of the cups gratefully. "How long was I out of it?"

"Six hours, give or take," Ianto said, sipping some of his own coffee. He instantly help up a hand when she tensed, ready to sprint out and get back home. "I've already called Rhys. He says he'll see you tonight."

Gwen supposed that that patched things up a bit, so she settled back on the couch. "Are we alone?"

"For the moment," Ianto replied. "Jack has gone out; Aline owed him breakfast."

"Okay." Gwen really didn't make sense of that, but she was pretty sure it was an in-joke between the two immortals. "What about Joe?"

"He's gone to talk to Kashchei's watcher, among other things," Ianto said. "Apparently, the death of an Immortal involves quite the paperwork."

"That was it then? He's really dead?"

"That's what Joe and Aline say," Ianto said, half-shrugging as he took another sip of the hot liquid.

"Then it's over. She's safe."

"She is now, but not for long."

Now that had Gwen frown. "Why not?"

"SOCA wasn't exactly pleased to hear of Pedachenko's death, even more so now that Clark's memories have somehow been… impaired," Ianto explained. "Now they're trying to find any kind of witness in their attempt to make a case against the Russian mob, and that includes testimonies of the victims' relations."

"And there's a chance they'll run a background check on her and find what _we've_ found," Gwen said, understanding.

"Yup."

Silence followed for several moments, during which Gwen sipped her coffee. "Do you think she'll ever come back?"

"Maybe. In thirty years or so."

Gwen pursed her lips. "You know, it's strange… To her it will be nothing more than a weekend trip out of town. And yet by the time she comes back, we'll either be dead or probably wearing our panties for caps."

"Not all of us."

Gwen looked at him, the soft tone surprising her. Ianto, however, grinned in the next moment.

"Panties aren't my thing." And with that, the young man walked away, apparently on his way to resume with his duties. Gwen, however, suspected that the real reason was that he didn't want to continue a discussion that was painfully uncomfortable.

In fact, it shouldn't have started in the first place.

* * *

Jack was in the cemetery, standing a couple of feet away from the grievous ceremony that was taking place today. It wasn't many times that he actually witnessed such a thing, and for a good reason too. The particular ritual served no purpose except to somehow comfort those that still lived, giving them the illusion that they said goodbye to the departed as they went on to a better place. Jack, however, knew that there was no such thing as a better place; and so, in his eyes, funerals were utterly pointless and painful.

That was also one of the reasons he couldn't understand why Aline wished to attend her husband's funeral, even from afar and away from prying eyes. After living for thousands of years, she should have grown detached to such notions such as mourning and grief, but it wasn't so.

He looked at the woman as she still stood next to him. Her dark hair was gone, replaced by a shade of red that stood out discreetly as she was currently dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, all black. Her eyes remained hidden underneath dark sunglasses, but, if anyone took a peek, they would have seen they were a lot greener now, thanks to a pair of coloured contact lenses. Even her demeanour had changed, resembling that of a calm, passive and hardly impressionable woman. Jack couldn't help thinking that Aline was like a fine actress who went through a complete metamorphosis in order to play her role.

"Thank you for coming," she finally said once the funeral was over, cutting into his train of thought. "I appreciate it."

"No problem," he replied, and they both started walking solemnly towards the exit of the cemetery. "What time is your flight?"

"Noon." She looked up at him, a half-smile on her lips. "Thinking of waving me goodbye?"

"No, I'm going to be busy charming my way back to SOCA's good graces, I'm sorry to say." Jack could already picture it: sitting at his desk with the phone an arm's length away from him while screeching echoed from the other end of the line.

"I'll send you a postcard from Paris to cheer you up."

"Thanks," Jack replied, a wry smile on his lips.

"You're welcome."

Just then, almost out of the blue, she stopped on her tracks and looked up; she had obviously sensed something – or rather, someone. Jack looked in the same direction she did and, sure enough, Joe was standing across the street and he wasn't alone. A tall, dark-haired man was standing next to him, his bright black eyes locked on Aline's form in a friendly and almost fatherly expression. It didn't take a great mind to guess that this man wasn't just another Immortal, but Aline's mentor as well.

"I guess that's your cue," Jack said gently.

"I suppose," she said, her voice carrying the same tone. She smiled at him. "And I guess that's our goodbye."

"Yeah."

But, in truth, Jack wasn't sure he wanted to see her go. Here was a person who could understand the burdens of immortality, who could understand _him._ A person he could grow attached to without having to watch them grow old and die, leaving him all alone and trying to pick up the broken pieces once more. Why couldn't she just stay with him?

"Aline…"

"You know, in time, I realised that there's another reason we fight between ourselves," she said with a weak smile, cutting in. "Other than abiding to the rules of the Game, that is."

Jack frowned, not really expecting that. "What is it?"

"For the rush of things. For that fast and furious heartbeat that will send our blood raging through our veins as we fight to preserve our existence, helping us remember what it means to be alive rather than just carry on."

Jack sighed. "Except I can't die. Ever."

She smiled. "I never said it was the only way to remember."

"What's the other way?"

She simply kissed him on the cheek. "I have a feeling you'll figure it out," she whispered softly in his ear, and then she turned on her heel. In moments, she gave her mentor a hug, and he, in turn, commented that black was definitely not her colour.

"I missed you too, Methos."

With that, all three of them walked away, around the corner and out of sight. Jack remained as if rooted on the spot for some time, unsure what to do or where to go. Finally, though, he put his hands in the pockets of his military coat and walked slowly back to the Hub. He barely registered the route he took, he hardly looked at the people that passed by him, each to their own business. He barely acknowledged that Gwen's car was missing from the parking lot, guessing that the woman had gone to find Rhys. He hardly even noticed the wail of the alarms as he walked in the base, welcomed by Myfanwy's screeches.

But when he saw Ianto at his workstation, blue-grey eyes locking on him and soft lips tugging to a beautiful, warm smile that made Jack's heart beat faster… he understood what Aline told him. And he couldn't help but smile back.

**The End.**


End file.
